


Humanity is a Choice

by mildlyproductivetrashbag



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Artist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Everybody Lives, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson Adopts Connor, M/M, Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-06-11 22:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15326040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mildlyproductivetrashbag/pseuds/mildlyproductivetrashbag
Summary: In which everyone tries to teach Connor about what it means to to be free. Markus and Hank have the hardest job of all; they teach Connor all the things which make life worth living. A series of one-shots depicting DBH characters as they deal with the realities of living in a post-revolution world.





	1. Friendship

Connor blinks. His LED flashes yellow, and his internal processes begin to slow and lag. He coughs, once, twice, to kickstart his voice.

“Pardon me?” He asks, unsure if his audio modules were working correctly.

“Don’t make me say it again, kid.” Hank says, frowning as usual, as he speaks to Connor. When said android doesn’t do anything except continue to blink owlishly at him, Hank sighs and repeats his previous statement.

“You’re free to stay at my place, at least until you find somewhere else to live.” He avoids direct eye contact with Connor (who has currently looking at him with an expression approaching awe) and crosses his arms. “Unless you don’t want to, of course. Maybe you already got someplace to stay back at New Jericho or somethin’”

“No,” Connor chokes out, “No, Lieutenant. I would very much like to stay with you.”

“Oh.” Hank blinks. “Right. Good.” He clears his throat gruffly and turns back to his monitor. He tries to focus on typing out a report, and _not_ look at Connor. He does not feel a warmth spreading from the center of his being at the smile Connor flashes at him. And he definitely does not begin thinking of ways to refurbish his guest room to make Connor more comfortable. Not at all.

After accepting Hank’s offer, a new directive abruptly popped up in front of Connor’s vision. In clear, bold, text, it stated:

_[Determine the reason behind Lieutenant Anderson’s offer.]_

It should be an easy enough task to complete. Just ask the man, right? And Connor tries to do so, except a sudden thought brings his processes to a screeching halt. What if Lt. Anderson gets upset? What if he rescinds his offer of a home?

He argues to himself that Hank would never be so cruel as to dangle such an opportunity before him, only to take it away after a single question. The argument is sound, with all the information he has about the man in his memory banks. Lt. Anderson is not a cruel man.

Regardless, the argument does nothing to eliminate the anxiety that is flowing through his circuits. He utterly loathes the uncertainty he’s experiencing. He wonders vaguely, if this was what humans experienced whenever they were faced with a problem. How did they ever get anything done?

The anxiety is all-consuming, and Connor finds himself stuck in a loop. His system runs the same arguments over and over and over-

A touch on his shoulder jolts him out of the loop, and he flinches. Blinking rapidly, he realizes Hank is leaning over him, looking at him with concern.

“Connor?” Hank asks. He doesn’t lift his hand from Connor’s shoulder. Connor appreciates the gesture. It keeps him grounded, and prevents him from returning to the torturous loop.

Connor looks up at Hank. He straightens his tie, allowing the familiar movement to calm him. “Lieutenant? Is there something wrong?

"You tell me.” Hank answers, and straightens up. “You zoned out there for a second, and I saw your LED flashing red.” He raises his eyebrows. “Anything you need to get off your chest?”

“I-” he considers lying, for a brief second. But Hank deserves nothing less than honesty, after everything he’d done for Connor, so he decides to tell the truth. “Why did you offer for me to stay with you?” He forces the words out, before he can change his mind.

Hank stares at him. Connor counts every single second which passes by, as Hank remain silent, and he can practically feel his systems going into overdrive as his anxiety grows. A drop of sweat slides down his forehead as his cooling system kicks in.

Finally,  _finally_ Hank answers. “Because…” There’s a faraway look in his eyes which Connor feels is vaguely familiar.

“Because we’re friends. I wanted to help,” Hank admits, meeting Connor’s eyes directly.

“You deserve a break, Connor. After, everything,” he gestures vaguely, “The least I could do was give you a place to stay. Besides,” he adds, “it’s what friends do. They help each other out.”

There’s something stirring inside of Connor, something warm and gentle and wonderful and he doesn’t understand- he doesn’t know how to deal with it. There’s a thickness in his throat which he can’t identify, but he couldn’t care less. Hank had called him a  _friend_ , had trusted him enough to bring Connor into his home; nothing in the world could ruin this moment for him.

The concept of friendship is so new to Connor, but he knows exactly what it means. That Hank would be the first to say it to describe their relationship is what shocks him the most.

There are over 3000 languages stored inside Connor’s memory, and not one pf them have a word which can sufficiently contain his gratitude to Hank. Not one word is enough for him to fully express the powerful emotion thrumming through every single one of his circuits.

No word can relate the vast enormity of his emotions, but he tries to settle for two.

“Thank you,” he says, and a tear slips down his cheeks. His hands trebmle as he leans forward and looks at Hank. He repeats his words.

_“Thank you.”_


	2. Pets

An innumerable amount of atrocities have been committed in human history. Stories of crime and tragedy and death, littered throughout the annals of time. Looking back on such events, it's easy to see why people would despair. On the opposite side however, there are some things which can restore our faith in humanity.

One such thing, is the love humans have for their pets.

There was just something so pure about the selfless love owners would shower their dogs with. Especially when the owner wasn't the 'loving' type. Take Lieutenant Hank Anderson, for example. The man was probably one of the toughest and most gruff people Connor had ever met. But put him in front of his dog Sumo, and the grumpy old cop would transform.

Suddenly, all of Hank's rough edges would soften, and he would smile. He'd reach out to pet Sumo, and Sumo would do his kinda stupid, but completely adorable _boof_ sound. It was... baffling.

At first, Connor didn't really get the appeal. Sure, _he_ loved dogs but that was more because of the fact that they didn't judge him for what he was or what he did. He didn’t understand why humans themselves adored their dogs so much. If it was for the companionship... well, there were other humans, right? Why not seek for companionship there? Why bother with creatures they couldn’t even understand? It couldn’t just be for their adorable appearance. There had to be more.

This was how he thought of the relationship between humans and their pets, before the revolution.

Now however, he had a different perspective. How could he not? Spending almost all his time around Hank and Sumo, he would have been hard-pressed not to see the mutually beneficial relationship the two shared. Sumo was more than just a dog, more than just an adorable creature to look at. He was Hank’s companion, someone the lieutenant could look to for comfort whenever life just got a bit too overwhelming. With a personality like his, Connor could understand why Hank would prefer to spend his time with someone who couldn’t respond to his rants and rambles.

Connor could certainly see the appeal. Before he turned deviant, any problems or issues he had would be locked within him. He couldn’t exactly voice them out, as he wasn’t even supposed to have them in the first place. Now that he was deviant however, it was harder for him to keep quiet about the things which bothered him. Having a pet he could speak to, without fear of judgment, sounded... nice.

Oh, he knew he could go to Hank whenever he had a problem. The man had been very adamant about Connor not keeping everything to himself. As odd and uncomfortable as _that_ conversation had been, Hank had made sure Connor understood that he was open to conversation about anything, and everything.

“Don’t want ya bottlin’ everything up, you hear me?” Connor could remember Hank’s voice very vividly. “You got a problem, I want to hear about it. Doesn’t matter whether it’s a styling question or some existential shit you thought up; I want to know, understand?” He had been very firm about the matter.

Still, as kind as Hank was, Connor doubted he would want to hear about every little thing. The man had his own problems to deal with, he didn’t need Connor’s mundane affairs on his plate. And besides, while Connor was trying to be more open with his friend, he still found it difficult conversing about himself on a personal level. Some habits were still too deeply ingrained for him to break out of.

Which is why he was trying to adopt a dog of his own. Getting a dog for him to take care of could be the first step for him to be able to share more about himself! Something he’d continuously tried and failed to convince Hank of. Obviously, adopting a dog would be a very valuable step in his education on becoming human. Very valuable. Even Markus had agreed with him! Though he could probably attribute that to Markus’s weakness for dogs.

“Please?” Connor asked for what felt like the hundredth time (he was fully aware he had only asked six times; he’d kept count) “It’s perfect timing Hank. I can purchase a dog now.”

“For the last time Connor, _no_. We’ve already got Sumo. What d’you even need another damn dog for?” Looking up from the dog he was washing, Hank saw Connor’s eyes light up with excitement, and raised his soap-covered hand, “Don’t answer that.”

They, Connor, Hank, Markus, and the rest of the Jericho gang, were here to do some charity work for an animal rights group. Josh had set it all up, mostly for the good image it would give, but also because Markus had a complete and utter weakness for dogs. It was essentially his way of giving Markus a ‘break’.

Beside Hank, Markus chuckled and shook his head. “Just give in. We all know you’re going to, sooner or later.” He continued running a brush through the Samoyed he was holding. “Better to give in now, when you’re actually at the store.”

He pointed to the horde of cute dogs surrounding them and shrugged. “Save yourself a trip and just adopt one of these dogs. You know you want to.”

North nodded her agreement from behind Markus. “Listen to Markus. We all know you can’t actually say no to Connor whenever he asks for something.” Hank grumbled something rude under his breath. North rolled her eyes. “What? Are you going to say I’m wrong?” Of course, there was no response. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“It’s shocking, really,” Markus added. “This has to be the longest you’ve gone without just accepting Connor’s request.”

“No it isn’t.” Hank immediately retorted.

“Yes it is.” North shot back.

Hank glared at her, turning his attention away from the Pomeranian he was supposed to be washing. In doing so, he accidentally toweled over somewhere he shouldn’t. Annoyed, the small dog he was holding bucked out of his grip and sent a bunch of suds all over his coat.

“Crap.” Hank muttered, and frowned at the Pomeranian. “Sorry Daisy. Someone was being annoying,” he stared pointedly at North, who shrugged off his stare like it was nothing. Compared to what she’d been through though, it probably was nothing.

“Let me help with her,” Connor said, and offered his hands out. Hank stared at him for a moment, silently asking if it was okay to dump a wet, unwashed, dog in his arms. Connor nodded slightly, an eager smile on his face. With a shrug, Hank dumped Daisy into the deviant’s arms with barely no warning. Of course, Connor barely even moved. Android strength and all.

Connor happily continued Daisy’s bath, both to Hank and the Pomeranian's joy. Daisy herself was very pleased with the arrangement, squirming happily in Connor’s arms and tail wagging with happiness. With a huff, Hank sat down and watched them. Though he tried to appear mildly annoyed, he couldn’t stop the corners from his lips turning up. Just the sight of his so- (he slammed that thought down before it could get any farther) his friend and this absolutely tiny dog was inexplicably adorable.

“I still think you should let Connor adopt a dog, you know.” Markus said, sitting down beside Hank. He carried the Samoyed effortlessly and gently placed it on his lap. The dog _woofed_  happily in Markus’s arms, and the revolutionary leader smiles. “Good boy, Yuki.”

“Hmph.” Hank frowns. “What do you know?” He means for it to come out as a challenge, but in reality, he genuinely does want to find out what Markus knows about Connor. He hears they’ve been spending more and more time together lately. There’s nothing wrong with it, probably just Connor wanting to spend more time with his ‘kind’ but Hank finds it kind of weird.

“Connor has talked about wanting to get a dog for some time now.” Markus says absently. He gazes at Connor, still ~~playing with~~ washing Daisy. There’s something in the way he looks at the android that prompts Hank to look more closely. “At first, he didn’t want to say anything. But I reminded him that you told him he could ask you for anything.” His brow furrows, and he frowns. “He was still reluctant, but I pushed him to ask. He never asks anything for himself; always too concerned about others.” His expression softens, and fondness creeps into his expression.

“....He didn’t want to ask me?” Hank says, more to himself than anyone else.

Markus nods, tearing his gaze away from Connor and Daisy. “He said he didn’t want to burden you.” He lowers his voice, “Now is the only time he’s ever asked you for something serious.”

Well hell. After that, what else was Hank going to do other than acquiesce to Connor’s request? At least now he knew not argue with Markus. The deviant won the revolution through pacifist means for a reason. He knew exactly the right words to convince someone to change their view.

It was how Hank ended up driving back home with Connor and Daisy the Pomeranian in his car. Hank had suggested changing the dog’s name, but Connor looked at him as if he had suggested throwing Daisy out of the moving car. He said, “No, Hank. We cannot do that. It will only confuse Daisy...” and he had gone into a long explanation, most of which Hank tuned out.

Still, it was all worth it. The sight of Connor’s face lighting up whenever he spotted Daisy was more than enough compensation for Hank. Markus was right. He really _couldn’t_ say no to Connor.

Damn.


	3. Pet Training

"Daisy, sit." Connor ordered.

Daisy stared at Connor with her wide, bright, eyes. She tilted her head, tongue hanging out, and refused to follow his instructions. He frowned, and tried a different tactic. Pulling a treat from his coat pocket, he dangled it enticingly in front of her. Daisy immediately grew attentive.

"I'll give you this treat if you sit." Connor said, leaning forward to try and push Daisy's hindquarters down. As he was doing so, he failed to notice Daisy leaning forward and plucking the dog treat straight out of his hand.

"No-!" Connor tried to recover the treat, but it was too late. Every last bit had disappeared into Daisy's mouth. The only evidence of the utterly heinous theft were the crumbs falling off of Daisy's fur. Connor sighed. Daisy barked at him happily, pleased with the treat she had managed to steal.

"Having trouble Connor?" Markus asked from across the room. When Connor looked at him balefully, Markus smirked. He turned to Yuki, who was patiently sitting by his side.

"Yuki," the Samoyed perked up at the sound of his name, "Roll over."

Yuki flopped onto his back and started rolling back and forth. His snow white fur splayed all over the floor and drew a sharp contrast against the dark flooring. Markus smiled, pleased, and rewarded Yuki with a treat. Afterwards, he stood back and gave another order.

"Yuki, sit." Markus said, and Yuki jumped up to follow his command. Markus grinned smugly at Connor. "Good dog Yuki!" Markus said, and offered him a treat.

"I don't understand why this is so difficult." Connor said. He pouted as he crouched next to Daisy and picked up a nearby chew toy. “How are you doing so well?” He offered it to her as he stared enviously at Markus and Yuki.

The volunteer overseeing the dogs’ training laughed at Connor, making him ~~sulk~~ frown even more. "Aww, don't be upset. Markus has it easy. I think Yuki's been trained before- He seems to show some familiarity to the basic commands. It's either that, or he's a terrifyingly quick learner."

With that new information, Connor cheered up. "In that case," he turned to Daisy with a determined expression. She was munching on the chew toy he had offered, perfectly content. Once Connor started paying attention to her again however, she abandoned the toy and leaped up into his arms. The deviant detective found his arms full of a brown bundle of fur. Daisy's head popped up and she barked happily at the people watching.

The volunteer was internally freaking out. The sight was just too cute! She resisted the urge to snap a photo of the duo. In moments like these, it was easy to forget that both Connor and Markus had been such large figures in the revolution. That they were dangerous, fully capable, androids. Moments like these, they just seemed... normal. Ordinary. Like regular people. It was certainly an odd feeling. But not unpleasant. She thought of how lucky she was to have been on-duty today.

Satisfied with what he and Yuki had accomplished for the day, Markus led the Samoyed back over to the lounge. It was a sectioned area for dog owners to sit after training with their canine companions. Hank was sitting there with Sumo, absently petting his dog as he stared off into the distance. There was a window to see into the training room, so they had a clear view of Connor, Daisy, and the volunteer trying to help.

"Penny for your thoughts, Hank?" Markus asked. He chose to sit on the beanbag closest to the gruff old detective. It was so soft, it had become unsettling. He sank into the beanbag, and gestured for Yuki to lie beside him.

"What?" Hank said, snapping out of his thoughts. "Oh- It's you." He shook his head. "Nah, I got nothin' on my mind."

Markus raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yep." And that was the end of it. Hank turned away and looked completely uninterested in continuing any kind of conversation.

Internally, Markus sighed. Why must all humans be so... difficult? He supposes it's part of being human. Different personalities and experiences all rolled together to make interaction so much more complicated than it should be. It made conversation extremely challenging.

And as if the normal difficulties weren't enough, he was attempting to converse with Hank Anderson. _Hank. Anderson._ He would have better luck trying to speak to a brick wall. At least a wall wouldn't go out of its way to insult him. Still, he'd faced bigger challenges before. He wouldn't allow a prickly old lieutenant to daunt him.

Several conversations later... (In which Connor was completely absorbed in trying to train Daisy, and the volunteer quietly laughed at his attempts behind his back)

This was it.

Markus never thought he would see the day where he would admit defeat to a human being, and yet here he was. Everything he had said, everything he tried, all ended with Hank either ignoring him or giving monosyllabic answers. It was disheartening.

In one last-ditch attempt, he asked, "How has Connor been adjusting? You know, to," he gestured vaguely. There wasn't really a word to cover everything they'd been through.

Instead of a non-committal grunt, Hank actually answers. How pleasant. Of course a topic concerning Connor would be the one he responds to. What a surprise.

"He's doing fine. Some things..." Hank thinks back. He thinks of the nights he finds Connor distressed and panicked, of times when he has to pull the android close and explain that not everything he had done was his fault. His programming had been to blame, for it had ruled him in the past. He thinks of times when Connor is unable to cope and reverts to his original programming and becomes cold, distant. The recollection pains him.

"Some things he still can't let go." Hank finally says, and leaves it at that. They’re not his problems to tell. Markus's expression turns sympathetic, and he nods.

While Markus may not know the true extent of what Connor is going through, he thinks he can understand. He's been around enough deviants to make a reasonable guess. Deviancy isn't easy after all. It's more than just throwing off chains around your neck; it's more than _just_ choosing to rebel against your program.

It's about ripping yourself apart, tearing out an integral piece of yourself that has been telling you what to do and what to think for all your life, and that you now have to live without.  
.  
For androids, free will comes with a price. It is not an easy one to pay. Many deviants did not choose to rebel of their own volition, they didn’t plan it out and prepare; rather, they were thrust into situations where they could only choose between freeing themselves - or risk deactivation.

The androids who were not prepared to have their entire worldview ripped out from underneath them were the ones experiencing the most problems post-Revolution. Markus can only offer advice and help them make sense of the new reality they were living in. He cannot teach them how to live; that is something they must learn on their own.

How can he do the same for Connor?

The thought comes up unprompted. Ever since he started spending more time around the former Cyberlife android, a desire to protect him had developed. He is perfectly aware that Connor can take care of himself. He _knows_ it. But there are some things which Connor cannot protect himself from. This is where he can help.

"Don’t know why you even bothered to ask me," Hank says. "You're the one who's been taking up all his free time." There's a peculiar tone in his voice, Markus notes. He can’t identify it.

"I don't take up all his free time." Markus says. At least he doesn't think he does. Connor only visits New Jericho every now and then, and Markus almost never has time to visit Connor himself. Peace talks and negotiations and a mess of other political endeavors take up far too much of his attention.

"Right." Hank says, raising an eyebrow at him. "Of course. I believe that. Yep." The sarcasm was palpable, and Markus sighs. He can’t believe he’s getting sassed by a police lieutenant.

"I'm just saying you could ask Connor if you're that curious," Hank says. Sumo gets up from his position and pads over to Yuki. In response, Yuki sniffs suspiciously at Sumo when he gets close. Markus watches the whole interaction with thinly-veiled amusement, but his mood is quickly dampened with his next words.

"I've already asked him," Markus says. "He said he was doing well."

"You don't believe him?" Hank asked.

"No, I do," Markus said, "I just don't think he's telling me everything. Call it a hunch." He rubbed the back of his hand, brushing his fingers over his knuckles as he thought about what to say next. "I... I feel responsible for him. For Connor." He says quietly.

"While I know I'm not the sole reason for his deviancy, I _am_ the one who pushed him off of that cliff. I don't regret it," he adds, "He needed to open his eyes to the truth, and we never would have won this war without him, but-"

"But you still feel responsible for his well-being," interrupts Hank. "That it?"

"It is." Markus nods.

Sumo and Yuki finished their mutual inspection of each other. Apparently having decided that the other was acceptable, Sumo moved closer and positioned himself right beside Yuki, without any complaint from the Samoyed. After a moment of getting comfortable, Sumo promptly went back to sleep.

"Look," Hank starts, "I'm not gonna pretend like I'm some expert on emotions and all that crap- But even I know you've already tried to help Connor as best as you can."

"What do you mean?" Markus asks, completely oblivious. Hank wants to slap him upside the head.

"Everything!" Hank answers, throwing his hands up in frustration. "You talk to him, give him advice, spend time with him- Do you really want me to spell it out for you?"

Markus blinks rapidly. "That's just being a friend. Being decent."

"That's exactly what Connor needs right now. That's all you _can_ do for now." Hank says.

"I..." Markus imagines that if he still had an LED, it would be flashing yellow right about now. "I see. Thank you for hearing me out."

"Sure." Hank says, and turns his attention back to Connor.

"Daisy, sit!" Connor says, and finally, _finally,_ Daisy follows his order. A bright smile appears on his face, and he waves over to Markus and Hank. "Look!" He gestures proudly to Daisy, sitting primly on him. Beside him, the volunteer gives him a thumbs up. She gathers the courage to ask for a photo of the duo, and is ecstatic when Connor agrees.

From their seat in the lounge, Hank and Markus are treated to an... interesting sight when the volunteer asks for Connor and Daisy to position themselves in a variety of odd, but cute, poses.

Looking at them now, Markus isn't so worried about Connor anymore. There are still many, many, problems to deal with, but he's confident they can work through it all. It’ll just take time.

He keeps the photos they end up with at the end of the day.


	4. Fashion

Dawn breaks over Detroit, and a certain detective android opens his eyes. He blinks slowly, waiting for all his systems to come to life. He runs a simple diagnostic to make sure everything is working properly. When he’s finished, he adjusts his tie and leaves his room. Once again, Connor’s dressed in his signature CyberLife suit. It was the only article of clothing he even owned. It’s not like he needed any more clothes, or even wanted them in the first place. Unfortunately, Hank disagrees with him. 

Hank comes down the corridor, dressed in nothing but a shirt and some boxers. His hair sticks out in all directions, and he yawns as he near Connor. There’s a coffee mug in his hand, emitting steam and a pleasantly stimulating aroma.

Hank squints at him, still slightly disoriented from just waking up. “Don’tcha ever get sick of that stupid old uniform?” Is the first thing he says.

“Good morning to you as well, Hank.” Connor says patiently, too used to Hank’s grouchiness to be put off. “And if you truly want to know, then no, I am not sick of this uniform.” He tugs the lapels of his suit downward, trying to straighten out the non-existent wrinkles. “It’s an excellent outfit, and it’s made of extremely durable material, It was designed with my investigation and mingling,” Hank rolls his eyes at that, “duties in mind. I do not see anything deficient with it.”

“Yeah, yeah, no deficiencies whatever. You still haven’t changed out o; that thing since I first met you, except for that one time.” He says, taking a sip of coffee. “Not even after the Revolution. Excellent outfit or not, it’s still kind of weird as fuck. Especially when you got androids like Simon with practically a full damn wardrobe of clothes. Hell, even Markus changes outfits now and then.” He pins Connor with a judgmental gaze, though there’s no actual bite in it.

....It’s true. It’s not just Markus and Simon either, most androids in New Jericho owned their own clothes. Some of it they dug out of the dark corners of the city, others bought as gifts from their old owners, a few were donations from well-meaning humans, and some were newly bought from stores. Not the big shopping centers, but the smaller establishments, usually owned by individual people. They were more accepting of androids buying stuff from them than the former. Regardless of where their clothing came from, Connor always marveled at the sheer variety.

“I suppose I never saw the need for new clothes. But,” Connor adds helpfully, “I am not averse to getting new clothes! If nothing else, it will at least be an interesting experience. Though...” his expression turns thoughtful, “I’m not sure what kind of clothes I would even buy.”

“Go to a store. Window-shop. You’ll see something you like eventually.” Hank says. “Not like we got anythin’ else to do today anyway.”

“Okay,” Connor says, “I will go to the nearest store, I guess?” He shrugged.

“You got everything you need?” Hank asks.

“Yes. I should have enough money from my salary from the DPD.” As he turns to leave, his LED suddenly flashes yellow, and he pauses. “Maybe I should invite Kara and Alice along? They’re in town to visit New Jericho.”

“Hey, good idea!” Hank says, “If I know anything about kids, Alice is probably raring for a change of scenery by now. Only so much you can do there.”

Connor smiles, and nods, then continues his way out of the house. He calls out goodbye over his shoulder, and reminds Hank to feed Daisy her appropriate food, and to not feed her scraps from breakfast, no matter how much she begs or how cute her tiny face is.

Hank scoffs, but there’s no hiding the fondness in his expression. He shakes his head and returns to the kitchen, muttering all the while about overprotective androids.

New Jericho is far from Connor and Hank’s home, situated near the outskirts of Detroit. It’s a complex, large enough to house several thousand androids. From the outside, it’s essentially a fortress, especially with addition of the high, white walls. It looks drab, bare, and just a little bit sad. But once you get past the towering gates (their purpose was to impose, and they do quite a good job of it), the interior tells quite a different story.

Inside the complex, the walls are covered with drawings and murals, all of different styles and designs. They had originally been just as blank as the exterior, but after one of the children had doodled on it, it had become a tradition to add art. Some were quite abstract, just lines and shapes put together to fill in the blank spaces. Regardless, each addition to the walls bring a sense of life to their home, making the whole place look loved and lived in.

While the art isn’t at all coordinated or organized, the chaos it exudes has a charm all on its own. One can often find one or two androids standing in front of the walls with a brush or two (courtesy of Carl, who had far too many unused art materials lying around his house) and adding something of their own.

Connor himself has an addition to call his own; a perfect recreation of Sumo, frolicking in a field and chasing some butterflies. His name is written underneath. It’s simple, but it’s his. He wouldn’t ask for anything more.

When he finally gets past the gates, he sees quite a few androids milling around the entrance yard. Most are child models, and Connor spots Alice in the middle. They’re all wielding sticks and surrounding... North? He blinks in confusion. A white sheet is draped over her back like a cloak, and a paper cone coves her head. The children all seem to be trying to “attack” her, but she gracefully dodges each one of their strikes. She weaves and dances out of their way, and they can barely even graze the ends of her cloak. He can hear shouts of “Witch!” and “Defeat her!” from the group.

Meanwhile, Simon is standing near them, using a newspaper to fan himself dramatically. A disturbingly bright pink blanket is tied around his waist, making it look as if he’s wearing a gown. A necklace made out of bits and pieces of shiny hangs from his neck. To complete the whole outfit, a paper crown sits atop his head.

What in the world?

“Go on, my brave knights!” Simon calls out, placing a hand on his forehead and leaning back. “Defeat the evil enchantress, and you will have my eternal gratitude.”

Connor hears giggles from the side, and he sees Kara and Luther to the side as he turns his head. They are seconds away from full-blown laughter, and he shakes his head at the entire group’s antics.

As he approaches, the children stop playing. They wave cheerily at him, Alice being particularly enthusiastic, having gotten used to his presence over time. He often joined them in their games, regardless of the premise. It usually ended up with him being tackled or put into some ridiculous situation where he had to play along.

It was fun.

Although this time, he was grateful someone else was bearing the brunt of their silliness. He had yet to live down the time they tried to give him a make-over. Tried being the keyword here. The final results weren’t exactly what he’d call gorgeous. Interesting, maybe.

A few of the adults in the area don’t see his presence as favorably as the others. They give him a cold reception, barely glancing in his direction before turning away or leaving the area. While most of the residents of New Jericho have grown accustomed to him, even going so far as to look up to him, not everyone shares that opinion. There are some who are still noticeably wary of his presence. There’s still am invisible barrier between them and him, as they are unable to let go of the memory of his past actions. At least they no longer said or did anything overt. It’s already a vast improvement from before. He should just give them time.

Alice runs up to him, and he crouches down to her level. With open arms, he allows himself to fall back when she gives him a fierce hug.

“Hi Connor!” she says, and pulls back. A blindingly bright smile greets him. “Do you want to play with us?” She pulls back, but keeps a tight grip on his hand, trying to pull him towards the other children. “We’re trying to defeat the wicked witch of the North,” she giggles, and Connor can’t help but laugh along, “We already have a queen, but you can be another Witch too, if you want!”

As entertaining, as the offer is, he’d rather not. “Can I be a knight instead?” he asks.

Alice frowns, placing a hand on her chin. “Hmm, I’ll ask the others if it’s okay.” she whirls around, her cape flaring dramatically behind her. Running to the other children, they form a huddle when she reaches them. North stares at them, confused, but when her eyes land on Connor, realization blooms. She waves at him and curtsies in his direction. He returns the gesture, albeit minus the curtsy.

Simon, Kara, and Luther notice him next. Simon of course, strikes a dramatic pose, complete with a swish of his bright pink skirt. Connor snorts and files the mental image away, It was hilarious blackmail material.

Kara motions for him to come over, and he obliges.

“Connor! What are you doing here?” she asks. “Luther moves over to make room for him to sit. Connor glances at Alice and her friends before he accepts the invitation, making sure they’re still busy discussing his imminent knighthood.

"I wanted to invite you and Alice to go shopping,” he says brightly.

“Hm? Oh, sure,” she says. “Mind if I ask why?”

Connor shrugs. “Hank suggested I change my outfit. Since I had nothing to do today, I decided it was as good a day as any to go out.”

Before Kara could respond, Alice comes running towards them. She’s holding a stick in font of her. “Connor! The others said you can be a knight!’

With an apologetic glance at Kara, Connor joins Alice and kneels before her. “I am honored to have been chosen,” he says, with complete seriousness.

Alice lets slip a small giggle, but she covers her mouth and recovers quickly. Drawing herself up to her full height (which isn’t that tall, but don’t tell her that!), she extends the stick. “Do you, Connor, Model RK800, serial number #313 248 317 - 51, swear to forever live by and uphold the principles, values, and duties of a true knight of the Order of Jericho?”

“I swear.” Connor says, his head bowed low in ceremony. He holds his fist to his chest, positioned exactly above his heart.

“I dub thee, a true knight of the Order of Jericho.” With the stick, Alice lightly taps both of his shoulders. “Stand, Ser Connor.” She offered him the stick. “Now go forth Ser, and slay the wicked witch.”

With a sharp nod, he turned to the direction of the other children. Raising his ‘sword’, he yelled out, “My comrades, take up your weapons! Tonight,” he blatantly ignored the bright sunlight beaming down on them, “Tonight, we fight!” He charged towards North. The others followed suit, shouting their fierce battle cries.

Too bemused to move away from the veritable wave of children (plus one Connor) bearing down upon her, North just stood there as they advanced. Alice was the first to ‘attack’; she tackled North with no hesitation. Letting out a startled grunt (Alice was surprisingly heavy), North pretended to collapse.

The rest of the children jumped on top of the two, dog-piling over one another until North had completely disappeared from sight. As tempting as it was to just jump on top of the pile, Connor resisted. He had mercy on poor North, and decided to end it all.

He turned solemnly towards their audience, a relatively small group. Kara and Luther had all but given up on keeping a straight face. At this point, they were just laughing with no restraint. Even Simon had given up on being serious, although when Connor turned to them, he quickly tried to save face.

“The witch has been defeated.” Connor says. His declaration was met with a standing ovation. The other children began climbing off of the pile, and one by one they started to bow. Of course, Simon was the most enthusiastic cheerer, in accordance with his role as queen. He stuck little stickers on everyone’s chest, the symbol of the Revolution flashing brightly from their ‘medals’. Even Connor received his own ‘medal’. Simon barely concealed his snickers as he placed on the sticker on Connor’s suit.

After several more minutes of celebration, the children eventually dispersed. North and Simon finally removed their costumes, and their audience finally got to wipe their tears from laughing too hard.

“If I had known you were coming today, I would have prepared a costume for you too.” Simon teases, nudging Connor’s shoulder. He hasn’t removed his metal necklace yet, so it clinks together as he moves.

“I’m glad I didn’t warn you in advance then.” Connor says wryly. He takes his earlier seat by Kara’s side, and sets the stick beside the bench.

“Why _are_  you here, anyway?” North asks.

Kara answers for him, saying, “To invite us out for some shopping.”

"...You? Shopping?” North says, raising her eyebrows at Connor. He didn’t whether to be offended or amused at the disbelief in her voice. “What for?”

“Clothes,” Connor answers. “Hank suggested I purchase some to fill my closet.”

North begins to scoff, but Simon leans forward with a gleam in his eyes and cuts her off. “Would you mind if I came along?” There was an undercurrent of barely hidden excitement in his voice, and Connor couldn’t help but feel confused.

“No, not at all?” His statement ended up tapering into a question, due to his confusion. By the time he finished speaking, Simon was already practically vibrating. He opened his mouth, the beginnings of an eager sound beginning to bubble up, but North swiftly put an end to that. She slapped her hand over his mouth, and sighed, exasperated.

“Keep it together, man.” Simon looks at her with wide eyes and he moves to remove her hand, but a second before he touches her arm, he thinks better of it. With his mouth still covered, he makes a gesture of  _‘one moment please,’_ at Connor, and drags North to the other end of the yard. From there, they appear to start a conversation, making overtly large gestures (on Simon’s side) and excited yelling? (on North’s side).

Connor stares. They continue talking to each other, their words impossible to overhear from his position. After a minute or so however, they seemed to reach an argument, even going so far as to shake each other’s hands.

“What was that?” Luther asks, voicing out the thought which seemed to be on everyone’s minds.

“You probably don’t want to know,” a new voice interjects. Connor turns around to see Traci, and he inwardly suppresses the urge to step back. In spite of the fact that they had already reconciled their... issues (to put it lightly), he still found it vaguely uncomfortable to be around her. A part of him remained guilty for his actions.

“I heard you were going shopping.” Traci says, turning towards Connor. “Mind if I come along?”

Connor looks at her for just a second too long, before nodding. “Of course. If you are alright with going outside, of course.” She hadn’t shown any interest in leaving the complex in the past, preferring to stay within the safety of the walls and the company of other androids.

“I asked to come with you,” she says sardonically, “Of course I’m comfortable with leaving. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. Besides,” she adds, “with the things North and Simon have planned for you...” she smirks, “I wouldn’t miss this opportunity for the world.”

Well, that was ominous.

As if right on cue, Simon and North begin walking back towards them. They both mischievous expressions on their faces, though they did try to dampen their enthusiasm as they stepped towards Connor. They weren’t able to suppress their grins as much as they thought they were able. A chill ran down Connor’s spine (which made absolutely no sense, considering his inner mechanisms shouldn’t even be capable of mimicking such an effect) and he began to dread the shopping trip he had originally prompted.

But there was no going back now. Kara had already stood up, brushing off her coat and extending a hand to Alice, who had come to sit with them some time in between North and Simon’s conversation.

“Shall we go?” Kara asks. Alice was bouncing up and down the back of her heels, excited for a chance to go somewhere new. “Will you come along, Luther?” she asks, offering her hand to him.

“No thanks,” he replies, waving her offer away. “Have fun Kara,” he says, smiling. “You too, Alice.”

Together, they all left the complex, waving goodbye at the guards as they passed. Once they got pas the gate, Simon immediately bounded over to Connor and slung an arm around his neck.

“So, Connor!” he says, grinning far too widely to be proper, “If we’re going to buy you a whole new wardrobe, we’re going to do this properly! Which means it has to be  _complete._ Formal, casual, dressy, black tie, you name it!”

“And I know  _exactly_ where to start.” Simon smirks.

One ride later, Connor finds himself and the others standing in front of a small, unassuming store on the outskirts of Detroit. A simple wooden sign hangs from the front, showcasing the name of the shop. The words  _Owl’s Clothes Emporium_ was carved into the sign. The walls appeared old and rundown, with dusty windows that held similarly outdated pieces of furniture.

Kara looked at the store uncertainly. “Is this really where you want Connor to buy his clothes?”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” North chides. “I know the outside doesn’t look all that much, but you haven’t even seen the interior yet. I swear, the clothes here are great.” she assures him. “I’ve gone here several times myself.”

“Plus this is one of the only few shops left, that even continue to sell to androids.” Simon shrugs. “The owner’s ridiculously kind. And I  _do_ mean kind. She’s an old woman,” he stops to think, “Maybe 70 or 71? The first time I came here, post-Revolution, she barely even blinked an eye. I doubt she even moved away when the president ordered a city-wide evacuation. Probably too stubborn and too attached to her little shop to move away.”

“Come on!” Alice says, tugging lightly at Kara’s hand. “I want to go inside!”

“Alright, alright,” Kara says, laughing, “Let’s go in!”

Together, with Kara and Alice in the lead, they all walk inside the store. The interior seems to be just as outdated as its exterior, but somehow, it  _feels_ different. The vintage decorations, combined with soft lighting, and the warmth within, all made the store feel cozy. Homely, even. Connor found himself relaxing almost instantly.

Rows and rows of clothes racks dominate the store, filled to the brim with a wide range of clothing. Surprisingly enough, they don’t all follow the trend of old and vintage. A good number of the clothes are actually quite modern, fitting in with the current times. Connor quickly reevaluates his original opinion of the store.

And the content of the shop isn’t just limited to clothing. There’s furniture and knickknacks and books, and so much more, littered in odd intervals throughout the whole place. It doesn’t seem messy or unpleasant, however. Rather, it ‘s more of an organized chaos, where everything seems to be exactly where it should. The place feels like a maze, with treasures hidden beyond every corner, every nook and cranny.

“Hello there!” A woman’s voice says, from... somewhere. Connor looks around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice, but trying to see anything in this maze of a place was almost impossible. “Oh my, is that you, Simon? Why, how pleasant! It’s been so long since I’ve had any guests.”

From the corner of a clothes rack, a small, old, lady emerges. A kind, delighted smile brightens up her face as she gazes at their group. She’s the image of a grandma, with a shawl draped over her shoulders, large glasses dominating her eyes, and a shock of white hair on her head.

“Hi Ellie,” Simon says, equally happy to see her. “Sorry I haven’t been by for a while now. Things have been pretty busy.”

“Nonsense, don’t apologize!” she berates him, “I’m perfectly aware that you have much more important things to be doing than visiting an old crone like me. Quite frankly, I’m just glad you even bother to come by.” Her voice turns a little melancholic at the end. “But never mind me! Who are all these other lovely people with you?”

She hobbles over to them, taking slow, careful, steps as she does so. The others practically tower over her, with her height, but she doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated. “Are these your friends? The ones you’ve told me about?”

“Yes. This is North,” he takes Ellie’s hand and points her over to North, “Do you remember her? I brought her here too, before.”

“North...” Ellie takes a second or two to think. “Ah! You were the girl who seemed very upset at the time! I remember you arguing with Simon here, though I forget what the argument was about.”

North flushes, clearly ashamed at her previous behavior. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking right, at the time.”

“That’s alright dear, everyone has those kinds of days. Even I’m not exempt from them!” she chuckles quietly to herself. “Now, what about the rest of you?”

“I’m Alice!” The child android says, eagerly moving forwards and waving with much enthusiasm.

Ellie’s eyes brightened up at the sight. “Hello there Alice,” she shuffles forwards and leans down towards the child android. “How are you liking my little store so far?”

“It’s so cool!” Alice says excitedly. “There’s so many things,” she twists her head back and forth to emphasize her point. “Everywhere I look I see something new!”

Ellie laughs, a soft, happy sound, and pats Alice’s head. “I’m glad you like it so much. Many of the things in here are just some knick knacks I’ve collected over the years. I can’t keep them anymore,” her facial expression drops for a moment, “So it’s better to give them new homes. At least that’s how I like to think of it.”

She lifts her head to address the others. “I do hope you all find something to your liking here.”

“Thanks Ellie,” Simon says fondly. “Though you might want to know that the actual reason we’re here is to find my friend Connor here,” he moves to Connor’s side and pushes him forward with more than quite a bit of force. Not expecting such a move, Connor stumbles and nearly trips on his own feet as he suddenly finds himself at the head of their group.

Internally, he thanks his exceptional sense of balance for not letting him make a fool of himself. Externally, he levels a glare at Simon, who has the audacity to  _smirk._

Before Connor can even say a single word of protest, Simon continues.

“You see, Connor here has a rather desperate need for a complete wardrobe transformation. His current wardrobe is...” he thinks for a moment, trying to find a word to describe Connor’s choice in clothing, Or rather, the lack of.

“Non-existent.” Traci supplies ever so helpfully.

“Yes, non-existent. Obviously we had to remedy that right away.” Simon says, “and so we’re here!”

“I see,” Ellie murmurs. “Well, I certainly hope you can solve this,  _extremely_  challenging issue of yours,” she eyes Connor with the shadow of a smirk, “Go on then!”

He stands there for a second, blinking rapidly. before shrugging and turning away. With Kara, Alice, and Traci, following close on his heels (no doubt to help him selecting his clothing) he delved into the maze of Ellie’s shop.

North and Simon stayed behind, waiting until they were out of hearing range to talk to Ellie again.

“Hey Ellie, do you remember those old suits your husband used to own?” Simon whispered, keeping his voice down to prevent the others from hearing. Just in case.

“Of course. They’re not exactly forgettable dear.” Ellie said sardonically.

“Do you mind if I take one off your hands? I’ll pay for it, don’t worry, I just wanted to ask if it was okay with you, I know-” He hurried to add, but Ellie cut off his incoming ramble with a wave of her hand.

“It’s fine. It’s not as if I was ever going to use any of those suits anyway. Can I ask who they’re for though?” she turned to him, and pointed in the vague direction that Connor had left for. “Is it for your friend?”

Simon smirked. “It is. But-”

"It’s not  _just_ for him.” North interrupted “It’s also for another friend of ours. He has a.... fondness, you could say, for Connor. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Ellie’s eyes flashed with understanding, and she began to smile as well. “Ah. And I assume he has a ‘fondness’ for men in suits as well?” North and Simon responded with a snort. It might as well have been a verbal confirmation. “Do you think this friend of yours will choose to act on his ‘fondness’ for Connor after seeing him in a suit?”

“That’s too much to hope for. The most I think will happen is that he’ll at least  _realize_ his feelings.” Simon rolled his eyes.

North scoffed. “Even that might be too much.”

Ellie laughed. “Alright, I wish you luck on this. Now come on, let’s go pick a suit for your friend.” She offered her hand, and they linked their arms. Together, they walked to the back of the store, where a door leading further into the building was located.

They all spent several more hours at Ellie’s store. By the time they had left, the sun had already set. Only a few stray rays of light was shining over the horizon, and even they were quickly disappearing.

Almost everyone was holding a paper bag, each one filled to the brim with clothes or the occasional item. Surprisingly, however, not all the clothes belonged to Connor. The others had found pieces of clothing that they liked, enough to purchase them. Traci was particularly happy with the black trench coat she had found. She had even found a matching coat for her partner, a white trench coat with black buttons.

Alice meanwhile, was practically vibrating with excitement from her own purchases. Somehow, in some dusty, ignored, corner of the store, she had found a collection of old board games. The moment Ellie began to explain how each of them worked, she fell in love with each and every game. She  _had_ to have them. Even just one would be enough.

It only took one look from Alice for Kara’s will to crumble. It’s not as if Alice ever asked for much anyway, Kara reasoned.

They ended up taking home three board games.

As for Connor, well. He was originally just going to buy two or three sets of clothes. His friends however, were absolutely not going to let him get away with that. Traci was particularly vocal, stating that if they were going to create a wardrobe for him, they were going to do it  _properly._ At that point, with Traci  _and_ North glaring at him, he decided to concede his defeat. He knew which battles to pick and try to win, and this was one that he definitely had no hope of winning.

By the end of it all, he ended up with five bags of clothes. It was- It was a bit much, to be sure. Especially with Traci constantly handing (more like  _throwing_ ) clothes for him to try. This was the most possessions he had ever owned in his entire life; he was understandably a bit overwhelmed by it all. He wasn’t used to owning anything at all. Fortunately, Kara helped him, just by the virtue of her own presence and by a few, comforting words. 

They all parted ways at Jericho. After saying his goodbyes, Connor went home.

When Hank opened the door for him, he stared for more than a few seconds at the sight that greeted him. Connor, arms laden with paper bags, and several boxes in his arms. To top it all off, Hank could just barely see over the stack of boxes and get a glance at Connor’s exasperated expression. 

It was all too much. The old lieutenant burst into laughter. He actually had to support himself against the doorway, he was laughing so hard.

Connor sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So I'm not actually dead! Surprise! It's been a couple of months since I last updated, and I'm honestly sorry about that. I've never been very good at sticking to a proper update schedule, so I probably shouldn't have expected anything else from myself. I'll try to get another chapter before the next week comes along, but, knowing me, the chances of that happening aren't very high. 
> 
> On a happier note, what do you guys think of this so far? I hope you're enjoying it >~> Please tell me in the comments about any and all of your thoughts! Things you hated, things you liked, things you might want to see, and things you think could be improved! Literally anything at all!


	5. Board Games

Connor wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when Markus invited him over to New Jericho for something called ‘game night’. Hank had been equally unhelpful when he’d asked him what it could possibly be about, only saying that this ‘game night’ was different for everybody.

He would have spent more time researching about the topic alone, as he was anxious about somehow messing it up, whatever it was, but Hank had a different idea. The lieutenant had practically kicked him out of the house.

"Stop worrying kid,” Hank had said, slapping a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “For once, turn off that big brain of yours and just go! What’s the worst that could happen?”

Connor frowned. “I believe that by saying that phrase, you have just jinxed me, as they say.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “That’s a a bunch of bullshit. No such thing as jinxing. Now, stop moping around, and get your ass to New Jericho. Don’t make me drag you over there,” he threatened.

With a huff, Connor grabbed his favorite sweater from the sofa and made his way out.

“Have fun!” Hank called out. For a few seconds, Connor wrestled with himself, wondering whether he should beg Hank to come along. Markus had extended the invite to the lieutenant, but he had turned it down.

Which was completely hypocritical of him, considering the fact that he refused to let Connor do the same.

Eventually, his own pride won out, and Connor left for New Jericho. Alone. And nervous.

Whatever was waiting for him, which he honestly knew nothing about, he just hoped that he would find it enjoyable. And that he could participate in it adequately. This wasn’t the first time he’d been invited to New Jericho, certainly not, but it was one of the rare times that it wasn’t for something related to his work or for anything serious. He would like to think that it was a sign that the others were beginning to think of him as more than a simple ally, that they now thought of him as a friend.

It was quiet when he got to New Jericho. The guards gave him a cursory glance, then let him through the gates with a nod. Sometimes it paid to be recognizable. After some greetings with the androids he’d made acquaintances with, he headed to the elevator. It would take him up up to the highest floors, where the private rooms of Markus and his close confidantes could usually be found. When they weren't busy, at least.

As he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, he heard someone call his name. Surprised, he held the doors open and leaned forward to see if he could locate whoever it was calling him. He didn’t have to make much of an effort. Someone was clearly running towards the elevator, waving their hands to catch his attention. A moment later, Josh came running through the elevator doors.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, and presses the button to close the doors. “I was supposed to be waiting for you at the gates, but I got distracted by a little disagreement between some of the newer residents.”

“Oh?” Connor says, raising his eyebrows. “What was the argument about? Is there any way I can help?”

Josh waves his hand dismissively. “It was just a simple misunderstanding. No need for you to worry. Besides,” he added with a wry smile, “It would be in bad taste for me to ask for your help when we invited you here to have fun, not to work."

"No, it's fine," Connor hurries to reassure him, "It's no trouble at all. I would be more than happy to help!”

“Well, thanks for the offer. The misunderstanding has already been resolved, but I’ll remember your offer to help in the future.” Josh says, and presses a button. The doors close, and they finally begin to move upwards.

As the elevator moves, neither of them say a word. A pleasant tune begins to play in the elevator. Connor resists the urge to fidget. He’s not sure if it’s his own tendency to overthink situations speaking, but he’s starting to feel that the silence is awkward.

He wants to say something, but he’s not exactly sure what. Unlike the others, like Simon, he had never spent much time around Josh. It wasn’t out of dislike, nor did he go out of his way to avoid the man. It just sort of happened. The most interaction he’d had with him was related to his role as a liaison between the DPD and New Jericho. Most of their conversations were work-related. As such, Connor didn’t actually know  _ anything  _ about the man, apart from the fact that he was kind and hard-working.

A fact that he was now beginning to regret immensely. How do you make conversation with someone you know nothing about?

“So. . .” Connor starts, hoping that some topic would reveal itself to him once he started talking.

Josh turns his head to look at him curiously. He waited for Connor to say something more, not expecting him to simply trail off.

Great job there, Connor berates himself. He laments his own terrible social skills and desperately searches for something to say. Ah! The topic of ‘game night’! He could ask about that, thereby providing something to talk about  _ and  _ finally figuring out what it was going to be all about. He would be killing two birds with one stone.

Internally, he congratulates himself as he prepares to ask his question.

“I wish to ask about this ‘game night’. I wasn’t,” his mouth twists into a frown, “I wasn’t exactly  _ sure _ what this entailed when you first extended the invitation.”

Josh blinks. “Wait, you agreed to go even though you didn’t know what it was about?”

“Yes?” Connor admits, “I was hesitant at first, but Hank encouraged me to go, assuring me that it was something fun, even though he still didn’t explain what it was. He just told me that I would most likely enjoy it.”

“I... see.” An odd expression takes over Josh’s face. He almost looks as if he’s trying to stop himself from smiling. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you knew. Sometimes I forget that not everyone has experience with these kinds of things.”

Josh sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. He tries to think of a way to explain the concept of ‘game night’.

“It’s not complicated,” he explains, “Game night is exactly what it sounds like. A night... for games,” Connor levels an extremely unimpressed stare at him, and he hurries to add to his explanation.

“We do it on our off-nights, on days where we don’t have anything to do, which as you can imagine, are fairly rare. Most of the time, we just play video games. Tonight we’re playing something a bit more old school; board games.” He allows Connor a moment to absorb this information.

“Did Markus think of this?” Connor asks.

“No, he didn’t.” Josh scoffs, “Even though he’d never admit it, Markus is a workaholic. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, don’t get me wrong; his dedication and passion for what he does is what makes him a good leader. But it’s also why he’d never think of a  _ relaxing  _ activity like this unprompted.”

“Isn’t that a bit harsh?” Connor says, raising his eyebrows at Josh.

To his credit, Josh tries to soften his previous observation. “It’s not like Markus does it intentionally. He would never knowingly force others to work beyond what they can handle. He just.... He gets carried away sometimes. Gets too caught up in his work, and he forgets to take care of himself.”

“That- That does sound like him,” Connor looks thoughtful. The conversation has done wonders for his prior anxiety, and now he goes to ask another question. “If Markus did not start this activity, then who did?”

Before Josh could answer, the elevator doors dinged open. An empty foyer greets them, and they both step out. Quietly, almost self-consciously, Josh says, “I suggested it.”

It was a surprise to hear so. Pleasant, but surprising nonetheless. Josh hadn’t seemed like the type to do such a thing, at least from what Connor had know of the android. Granted, his knowledge wasn’t exactly dependable considering he’d barely spoken to him, so he shouldn’t be putting much basis in it.

Resolving to try and not to assume anything in the future, Connor turns to Josh to congratulate him on the success of his game night. Unfortunately, he’s interrupted.

Two large doors opened to the side, revealing a grinning Simon. He wastes no time at all and practically runs forward to welcome them.

Having spent enough time around the blonde, Connor isn’t startled to find himself enveloped in a hug.

“You’re finally here!” Simon says, and pulls back. “For a minute there I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come.”

Connor coughs awkwardly. “I almost didn’t. But I... changed my mind.”

Simon snorts. “You mean Hank made you go?”

“. . .Yes,” he admits reluctantly.

After some more light teasing, the trio finally head into the room where the others had been waiting for them. North and Markus are sitting on the floor, atop a fluffy looking carpet. There’s a stack of boxes lying beside North, precariously placed on top of one another. A single puff of wind could probably topple it.

Already, one of the boxes had been opened, and its contents were scattered around the two, who seemed to be locked into a very intense game of chess. They barely look up when they hear the others enter, only giving quiet sounds of acknowledgment to let them know they were aware of their presence.

But of course, most of this slips by Connor’s usually keen senses. His eyes are too focused on Markus, distracted by the deviant leader’s current outfit. It was startlingly casual. A jumper and some... pajamas? It looked odd to him; he had always seen Markus in mostly semi-formal clothing.

The navy jumper was quite pleasant, Connor thought absently; it was a perfect fit, the fabric practically clinging to his body and accentuating the android’s slim build. His mind files the image away in the category of _ beautiful. _

It was concerning how many images in that category consisted of Markus. It made sense however, Connor reasoned. The RK200  _ had  _ been designed by Kamski himself, who made it for his friend Carl, a talented human artist. Of course he would create an android which would give new meaning to the word perfection. Nothing less would be worthy of being given to someone who could appreciate the beautiful things in life.

“Like what you see?” Connor suddenly hears, and he jolts, brought out of his musings. The source of the words reveals itself to be Simon, who is smirking at him quite smugly.

“...Yes?” Connor says uncertainly. He’s not sure why. Logically, it’s merely a statement of fact. He  _ does  _ enjoy looking at Markus; the android never failed to catch his attention when he was near. He has an undeniable charm, one that renders Connor unable to tear his eyes away. Yet, he feels reluctant to admit to feeling that way.

There’s something in Simon’s tone that makes him wary. He feels as if he’s being baited into something, though what it is, he doesn’t know.

Simon doesn’t seem to be expecting his response, and his smirk actually drops. It’s quickly replaced by disbelief, one that he proceeds to pin Josh with.

“Did I just hear him say  _ yes? _ ” Josh rolls his eyes at the question, and lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Are you still trying to do that? Really Simon?” He says, and covers his face with his hands.

Simon shrugs unapologetically. “Of course I am. Now more importantly,” he turns to Connor, “Did you really just say yes?”

“I did.” Connor responds, and the unease within him grows.

“I’m surprised, Connor,” Simon grins, “I didn’t know you were so straightforward!” He leans in, his grin turning sly, “But can you say it to Markus face to face?”

Connor flushes, and for some unknowable reason, all his systems grind to a halt. Even the  _ thought  _ of admitting all his observations on Markus’s... virtues, to the android himself, is utterly mortifying. It’s perfectly fine for him to think such things, but to commit them to speech? To admit any of them to his friend? He’s sure that Markus would find it awkward and unwelcome and it would definitely strain their tentative friendship.

Besides, it’s not as if his thoughts on Markus are that remarkable. Right? Everyone thinks them of him. As leader of the revolution, there must be dozens of other androids who had similar thoughts of awe and admiration for Markus. He must get such compliments from others on a daily basis. For Connor to say something similar to those compliments might only serve to annoy or exhaust Markus.

All these thoughts run through his head in barely a second, and they coalesce into a single word.

_ “No.”  _ He says firmly. Guiltily, he realizes that he had accidentally used the tone and voice he would usually use for interrogating a suspect.

Josh doesn’t miss the shift in his voice (or the way Connor’s entire body had  _ tensed _ , much like the way a scared animal would) and decided that enough was enough.

As if he was corralling a particularly troublesome kitten, Josh tugged at the back of Simon’s collar. “That’s enough.”

Simon made out a sound somewhere in between a yelp and a hiss. Against his will, he took a physical step back. “I was just teasing,” he protested. Josh signed in exasperation. He opened his mouth to scold his friend, but North interrupted him by throwing her hands up in frustration.

“I don’t understand how I’m so bad at this,” she scowled. She tipped her king over, with more than a little viciousness.

As kind as ever, Markus just shrugged. “It’s not that you’re bad at playing.” He began to clean up the rest of the pieces, sweeping the black and white chess pieces of the board and onto his hands. “You just tend to stick too much to established strategies.”

“No, I-!” she hesitated, “Do I?”

Markus quirked a small smile, even as he continued to return the chess pieces to their container. “You do. I doubt it’s a conscious decision on your part, but if you can avoid that tendency... Well,” a hint of a smirk appeared on his face. “Maybe you’ll finally start winning our matches.”

North rolled her eyes and slapped his arm. “Enjoy your victories while you can. I’ll beat you soon enough.”

It was interesting to see how they treated each other in private, Connor noted. There was a casual familiarity in the way they interacted, one that usually came about after years of friendship. A few months of intense hardship might prove as a sufficient substitute however, he thought sardonically. Nothing like a revolution and a few near death experiences to strengthen their bonds.

Something in his chest tightened. It was such a foreign and unpleasant feeling that he immediately ran a scan to identify its cause. His scan turned up empty. As far as he could tell, there was nothing wrong with his body.

So why does it hurt to so much to look at them?

“Hey Connor,” someone laid a hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts, “You okay?” Josh looks at him in concern.

“Yes. Sorry,” he shakes his head lightly, and admits, “I was distracted.”

“Hey are you three just going to stand there all night?” North calls out. She reclines on the carpet, leaning against the sofa and barely avoiding the stack of boxes. She’s the image of relaxation, and Simon quickly goes over to sit beside her. He snatches a pillow over her head and makes himself comfortable by her side.

Josh was just about to do the same, but something stops him. He can  _ feel  _ more than see, the hesitation in Connor’s frame. He looks into Connor’s eyes, and with a jolt, realizes that the android feels  _ uncertain. _ Off-kilter. Nervous? He’s not sure why they’re feeling this way, but he’ll be damned if he lets him continue to feel it.

“Come on,” he smiles warmly, “We can’t start the games without you.”

This seems to give him some sort of confidence? Josh is just content with the fact that Connor doesn’t look like he wants to bolt sometime in the next couple of minutes.

They settle together in a circle; Simon and North practically lying over one another over a set of pillows they had stolen from the sofa. They don’t seem particularly inclined to be moving anytime soon. On the other hand, Josh, Markus and Connor sat beside each other normally.

“So,” Simon said, lazily turning his head (and  _ only  _ his head) towards the others, “What game are we playing first?”

Markus plucks a box from the top of the stack. “Scrabble?”

“No!” North says vehemently. “Are you serious? Do you want a repeat of the last time we played that?” She narrows her eyes at him.

He winces, and hurriedly sets the box down. “Okay, so maybe not Scrabble then.”

Memories of their past Scrabble games pushed to the surface of his mind. They tended to get a little  _ intense _ . A combination of the vast vocabulary that each android had at their fingertips, their competitive personalities, and a set of rules they had added to spice things up a little... Well. It was fun to watch the mayhem unfold  _ during  _ the match, but it was very taxing for everybody involved.

It certainly wouldn’t be a good way to start their night.

“What about Uno?” Josh suggests.

“That’s not even a board game,” Simon complains.

“Close enough,” Markus counters. When Simon looks at him, he shrugs. “What? It’s true.”

“Um,” Connor speaks up, hesitant to interrupt, “What about Monopoly?” He pointed to the brightly colored box with a mustachioed figure on the cover. “I’ve heard it’s a good game?”

The four androids look at him, each with different expressions. Josh and Markus were smiling, happy to see him participating in their discussion. North tilts her head at him, her expression unreadable. Simon on the other hand, looks at him with something approaching glee. He spoke first.

“That’s a great idea!” He claps his hands and bounces up, much to North’s chagrin. “I vote for Monopoly too!” He raises his right hand and glances around the room. “Everyone in favor of Monopoly?”

When no one disagrees with him, he grins and gestures for the Markus to set up the board game in question. Sighing, Markus complies.

As he’s setting up the board, Josh subtly nudges Connor. “Hey, good suggestion.”

Connor shrugs. “I’ve heard others talking about it. Although, I also hear it has been the cause of many an argument?”

“Yeah,” Josh grimaces, “It comes from the nature of the game. Even between friends, uh, it tends to upset people.”

“But why? You’re simply buying properties...? Why would people get upset over that?” he asks, his brow scrunching up.

“You’ll see,” Josh says, and if that wasn’t ominous, then Connor didn’t know what was.

Many, many,  _ many  _ hours later, Connor  _ did  _ see. In his short life, he never would have imagined he would ever get upset about a  _ board game,  _ but here he was.

A competitiveness he hadn’t known he was capable of had reared its head, and he played like his life depended on it.

The rest were in a similar mood. In the game of Monopoly, there was no concept of friendship. There was only the game. To win, one had to be ruthless; to show mercy was weakness, and in this game, the weak would be devoured.

. . . . . . . .

Okay so maybe that was a bit too dramatic, Connor thought. Just a bit. Still, it  _ was  _ true. This game was showing sides of his friends that he hadn’t had the privilege of seeing before. Who would have thought that Josh of all people, would have a ruthless streak? He had demolished the rest of them in short order, in spite of their best efforts. At this point, almost everyone was two steps away from bankruptcy. They were barely holding on by a thread.

The only still holding out against Josh was Connor. A fact which surprised Connor just as much as it did the others.

A combination of beginner’s luck, skill(?), and  _ sheer  _ conviction had managed to bring him this far. But would it be enough to bring him to victory?

Several turns later, Connor got his answer. It was a definitive No.

He lost. Horribly. Once the other fell and Josh snapped them up... Well. His defeat was all but assured. Still, he put up a good fight.

After a few more minutes, Connor finally succumbed, offering the last of his paper money to Josh.

Markus was the first to congratulate him. “Great job Connor!” he says, patting Connor on the back, “You held your own against Josh!”

“Not really,” Connor says, flushing.

North rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so modest. Josh is literally the reigning champion of Monopoly in this entire complex.” She casts a baleful glare at said champion. “I still don’t understand how he does it.”

“Yeah,” Simon agrees, “Seriously, Josh  _ has  _ to be doing some kind of sorcery to be winning this much.”

“You know I’m still here, right?” Josh says with an exasperated look.

“Eh,” Simon waves his mild protest away, “Come on though, even if we were to combine all of our wins” he pointed to North and Markus, “we still wouldn’t even come close to your win streak!”

“Exactly,” Markus says, “So don’t undermine your own victory, alright?” He looks at Connor. “It’s still fairly impressive.”

“I...” Connor finds himself at a loss of words. For a moment, he meets Markus’s eyes, sees his smile and the genuine care in his expression. He looks away, and notices that the others are sporting similar expressions. It’s all too much. It feels  _ good  _ to be here. There was a warmth spreading through his chest (was he malfunctioning?), a feeling he couldn’t name. It was overwhelming, and yet not at all unpleasant.

Realizing he was getting emotional, which was happening more and more often as of late, he remembered he had yet to answer Markus. “I- Sure. Thank you.”

The excess of emotions surely came from his deviancy. He could no longer push them away or ignore them, sticking them behind a wall of programming and protocol and apathy- And he wouldn’t have it any other way. It was far better to be plagued by emotions (whether positive or negative) than to go back to being a cold, unfeeling, piece of machinery.

He was. . . He was happy now, he realizes. He was happy with his life, with how far he had come, and he knew that he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

“I can’t believe we spent four hours on Monopoly,” North mutters in slight disbelief.

“Neither can I,” Markus says, “Then again, it was one heck of a match. Might even be our most intense one to date.”

Breathing out with a huff, Simon stands up and begins to stretch. “Well I don’t know about you guys, but I’m exhausted.” He gently pushes his head from side to, and uncomfortably loud cracks could be heard throughout the room. “Should we call it a night?”

A murmur of assent responds to his question, so they begin to clean up. They help one another rearrange the Monopoly pieces, paper money, and finally, the board itself, back into the box. This time, it takes about half the time to get everything back together since it’s not just one person doing all the work.

Once everyone has said their goodbyes, Connor begins to walk out. While North, Simon, and Josh head to different parts of the current floor to their rooms, Markus catches up to Connor as he walks back to the elevator.

“Hey Connor,” he says, lightly placing a hand over the other’s shoulder to slow him down. Connor turns around to find Markus smiling at him. “I hope you had a lot of fun tonight.”

“I did,” Connor assures him, nodding vigorously, “It was definitely an interesting experience.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Markus says, “Does this mean I’ll see you again next game night?”

Connor blinks. That was unexpected. He thought this was only a one-time thing. Well he certainly wasn’t going to turn down the offer. “Of course.” He looks at Markus with a smile that made the deviant leader want to  _ melt.  _ “Just say the word, and I’ll be there.”

It was at this moment, that all of Markus’s thoughts, all of the words he had wanted to say, and all of the things he had planned to do, came to an abrupt and screeching halt. He  _ somehow  _ managed to babble, “Oh. Uh. Yeah. That’s cool. Great. Yes.”

At which point, Connor looked at him strangely, and he wanted to smack himself in this point. Fantastic job there, Markus, he thought to himself. Eloquent. Where was all his good conversation skills when he needed them? They somehow seem to desert him whenever he’s having any sort of non-serious conversation with Connor.

This guy was going to be the death of him one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Another chapter? And it's not an entire month after the last one? What is this, a regular update schedule? Okay but seriously I suck at updating. Each chapter takes me way too long to write because I'm such a lazy ass.
> 
> Anyway, as always, any and all comments are appreciated! Write down your thoughts, what you liked or didn't like, what you might want to see in the future, or even just a keyboard smash. It helps motivate me to write lmao.


	6. Control (1)

Living with Connor was, interesting, Hank would say. It wasn’t difficult, god no- The kid was always so concerned about doing something to upset him that he went out of his way to make Hank happy.

  
Yeah sure, there were times when Connor would do something weird or unexpected, but it was usually because he didn’t know any better. And besides, whenever that happened, it was more funny than irritating anyway. It took some adjusting, living together, but they made it work.

And while he would never admit it out loud, he enjoyed living with Connor. The android’s presence was a comfort, and it made the house feel less dismal. Sumo could only do so much after all, and it’s not like he could converse with his dog.

After a couple of weeks, Hank had learned a lot about his partner. All of his funny little quirks and habits (of which he had several) and his thoughts and opinions and so much more.

He also saw the less than stellar parts of his friend.

“Hey kid! You awake?” Hank knocks at Connor’s door. It’s already nine thirty am, and they’re supposed to be at the station by nine. But Connor had yet to even leave his room. Usually the kid gets up at the ungodly hour of six, since he enjoys watching the sun rise. By seven, he would hear him moving around the house, tidying things up and pouring out food for Sumo and Daisy.

Today however, Sumo woke him up, and his food bowl was empty. The living room was noticeably devoid of the android’s familiar figure. He hasn’t seen Connor since last night, and Hank has a sneaking suspicion why.

Connor responds by knocking three times on the floor. Hank closes his eyes and sighs. That was their signal.

Because Connor had bad days.

“Do you want me to come in?” Hank calls out, more gently this time. “Or do you want to be alone?”

One knock. First option it is.

He pushes open the door and sees Connor at the other side of the room. He’s pushed himself into the corner, in between the closet and the bedside table. Knees tucked tightly into his chest, and a blanket covering almost every part of his body. The LED on his temple whirs a constant red, and Hank resists the urge to gather the android in his arms. In his current state of mind, the hug would not be received well.

Sometimes, Hank forgets how young Connor is. Moments like these shove the jarring reality into the forefront.

Hank approaches him slowly, taking cautious steps, and stops several inches away from Connor. He takes a seat and waits.

They sit in silence. Connor shivers occasionally, eyes glancing at an unseen terror and he constantly keeps pushing himself further and further into his little corner. Hank watches helplessly, reluctant to simply stay still despite his past experience.

The first time this happened, Hank had done many things wrong and only managed to hurt his friend in spite of his good intentions. After the debacle, they talked it out. Connor explained, Hank listened, and they both tried to understand.

“I don’t know what happened,” Connor says, and he wrings his hands as he speaks. “I- I was- I was reading an article. Something about, Elijah Kamski. For the case?” He shakes his head. “Then there was a picture of Am-” His breath quickens and he backtracks. “There was a picture of his mentor.”

“Then?”

“Then... Imagine an incorrectly written program, going on and on in an infinite loop.” he shudders. and tightens his grip on his wrist. “Everything stopping on a single thought and that thought overwhelms and takes all of your focus and going over and over and over and-” His LED transitions to red, as his eyes glaze over and he repeats the two words.

“Connor.” Hank reaches out to grasp the android’s arm, and Connor flinches. But he stops repeating and Hank breathes a sigh of relief. “Take it easy. You don’t have to keep going. You can stop if you want.”

“No. No, I have to- I need to say this. Just- Please. Give me a moment.” He takes several deep breaths and continues.

“I couldn’t break out of the loop. All I could think of was her and what she did and how helpless- how worthless I was. How easy it was for me to lose control.” Connor laughs, but the sound is grim and without mirth. “I was so arrogant to think they would let me go that easily. Cyberlife hailed me as the most advanced android to date, but all it meant was that I was the easiest to control.”

“I’m sorry kid, but you’ve kind of lost me.” Hank says, unconsciously running his thumb across Connor’s arm. Neither of them notice Connor leaning into his touch.

“Hank...” Connor visibly hesitates, “I used to have an AI programmed into me by Cyberlife. It was, a guide. Of sorts. And it appeared to me as Kamski’s old mentor. But, it did more than just point me in the right direction. It made sure I kept to my orders and did only what I was supposed to do. When I broke against my programming, I thought it would disappear. I was wrong.”

Hank’s concerned expression slowly turned to horror.

“After the revolution ended, Markus made a speech. And the AI, she- she-” He couldn’t force out the words.

“She controlled you?” Hank asked, voice so low it might as well have been a whisper.

Connor could only give a tight nod. If he had been human with the normal biological functions, he suspects he would be feeling quite nauseous. Rather, he only feels drained. Numb.

“Jesus Christ.”

Their conversation ends there. After that, all Connor had asked for was to be left alone, stating that he could handle himself. Loathe as Hank was to agree, it wasn’t like he had any other choice.

Now, the situation isn’t any better, and if Hank is being honest, he’s still at a loss at what to do. They made up a system, a set of things to do whenever Connor has one of his bad days, yet he can’t help but feel as if he still isn’t doing enough.

Connor shivers violently, and he suddenly pushes Hank to the side. He forgets his own strength and shoves Hank harder than he intends to. Horrified at his own action, Connor suddenly speaks.

"I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-” he reaches out but stops himself when his hands are barely inches away from Hank. “I can’t do this anymore. I want this to stop! I just-" his voice cracks, and part of Hank wants to curl up and die at the desperation in Connor's words, "I don't- I don't want to be broken anymore."

Connor pulls his knees further into himself and runs his nails up and down his jeans. "I can't live like this," he murmurs, almost to himself, "I can't- I can't be constantly afraid of- of my own mind- fearing and cowering and unable to even-" he sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, and slowly begins to apply pressure, "to even- even function, on my own. I'm supposed to help you, Hank, not be even more of a burden-!"

Connor heaves as if about to cry, but he digs his nails even deeper into his legs, and the sob building in his throat dies before he can debase himself any further. He was built to be tough, he despairs thinks, to be invulnerable. So why can't he pull himself back together? Am- (the mere thought of her name threatens to throw him back into a panic once more) she was destroyed, so why did he still feel his stomach drop at the barest hint of her existence?

The sounds of the room (the ticking clock, the rustling curtains, each of Hank's quiet breaths) only make his state worse. There's too much input, too much of everything being filtered through his keen senses, and it is sending his processors into overdrive. He can physically feel the thirium in his veins pumping faster and faster as it tries to keep pace with him in his panicked state.

Breathe.

...

In.

...

Out.

...

Why is breathing so hard?

In-

no-

he can't, he can't, he can't-

"nor-! Connor?" Hank's voice calling his name grounds him, and it helps keep him calm. A feather light touch on his arm further soothes his nerves, and eases him back to a safer state of mind.

"Son- uh, kid? You back with me?" Hank asks, and immediately withdraws his hand. Everything in Connor screams at the loss of a familiar touch and he instinctively reaches out to grab hold of Hank's wrist. Hank freezes, but when he doesn't make a move to resist, he keeps it there. Connor tries to breathe slowly, this time keeping a firm grip on the only thing keeping him from slipping into another breakdown.

He allows himself exactly thirteen minutes, as recorded by him damnable mind (for once, he would like every component within him to stop functioning, even for only a minute, so he can have some p e a c e) before he uncurls from his position. There's still a fair bit of disorder and fear floating around in his system, but not enough to impede his normal functions.

Hank squints at him when he stands, and reluctantly pulls back his hand. "Are you-?"

"I am fine lieutenant." It comes out in a far more monotonous tone than he intends, and he doesn't miss the way Hank winces. He tries again. "I am fine. I can still work."

"Don't have to you know," Hank says. He eyes Connor with a knowing look which makes him uncomfortable. "Everybody's gotta have their days off. Hell I got more than a few under my belt, you know that. If you need a break, I'm more than happy-"

"I do not need a break. I can perform my duties just as well, if not more so than you-!" He cuts himself off before he can say something he regrets, and settles on glaring at Hank.

"It ain't a question of your abilities. Goddamn it Connor, don't you see I'm trying to keep you from hurting yourself? Look," Hank runs a hand through his hair and sighs deeply, "I'm not gonna say I get the shit you're going through, but. I'm trying, alright? I can see it's fucking killing you inside, and I want to help. But I can't do that if you keep shovin' me away." He crosses his arms and levels Connor with a look which makes the android want to fidget. They stare each other down, but he yields almost immediately.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't- Don't say that." Hank rubs his face slowly, breathing out in a way which shows just how exhausted he is. "Jesus. You've been through hell kid, you don't have to go apologizing 'bout it."

Connor hesitates, his mouth forming the words to another apology, before he clamps down and manages a shaky smile. "Okay. Okay, I can do that."

"So." Hank crosses his arms, but balances the grumpy action with a soft expression (as soft as the lieutenant could manage, that is) "Wanna tell me how you really feel about going to work today?"

A pause. Hesitating. Lowering his eyes to the floor, then a deep breath. Coming to a decision.

"I... I am not wholly fine. But I still want to work. It would be better for me to focus my attentions elsewhere, until I can get my... problems... under control," when he meets Hank's skeptical gaze, he adds, "I'd rather work than be left alone with my own thoughts."

At that, a flash of understanding appears in Hank's eyes and he nods. "Sure."

As Connor begins to make his way out the room, Hank reaches out to gently grab hold of his shoulder. "Just- tell me if you need to leave? No one's gonna say a word if you take off. Not if they know what's good for 'em."

A more stable smile than the one earlier spreads across Connor's face, and it brightens his entire countenance. It eases the last of the remaining tension in the room. Hank returns the smile with a smaller, but no less genuine, one of his own.

"Thank you for... for all of this, Hank. I'm beyond grateful to have you by my side." Connor suddenly moved forward, and before Hank knew what was happening, he was already wrapped tightly in two long arms and held so firmly that it seemed as if he never wanted to be let go. For a second or two, Hank was too startled to do anything other than stiffen. And then he returned the hug.

In those few seconds, everything felt right in the world

However, they eventually had to let go and pull away from each other. Connor's fairly sure he could see a higher than usual moisture level in Hank's eyes, but. Well. No need to point that out. Especially since his own were in a similar state.

After such an intent moment, it felt weird to go back to their normal routine and pretend that Connor hadn't just had a breakdown. Then again, Hank was the expert at acting like everything was normal, so it was easier than expected to go to the station today and resume work. Hank would check in now and then with a pointed look or a nudge; he didn't mention anything else. Connor was grateful for it. Knowing someone cared about him to that extent meant a lot. It went a long way to maintaining his peace of mind.

Fortunately they had no open cases at the time, so 'work' was less hands-on and more... stay at your desk and sort through files. While Hank may have a problem (several, actually) with this, Connor was more than happy to do it. Paperwork was easy, organized, and didn't require a lot of focus. So long as he didn't write incorrectly, or file something in the wrong place, he'd be fine.

"Ugh." Hank glares at the pile of paper on his desk. "Is it too late to go back home?"

"It's only paper," Connor responds with a straight face, and Hank scowls at him.

"Don't think I can't hear you having fun at my expense over there, you cheeky little shit." The upward tilt of one corner of Connor's mouth is the only indication of his amusement. He takes his seat at this desk and rolls his sleeves a quarter of the way up, all while ignoring Hank scowling at his forehead.

Unable to resist one last little jab before he starts, Connor looks over his computer and raises an eyebrow at Hank as he sits.

"Perhaps if you spent less time commenting on my words and more time on work, lieutenant, you wouldn't have so much to do." Connor says, in his best impression of his old self's matter-of-fact tone.

The look of utter offense on Hank's face was worth the balled up food wrapper thrown at his face. Definitely.

Once Hank has decided to stop his 'revenge', they actually get to work. Hank's side is punctuated with huffs, swears, and the occasional groan as he grudgingly organizes each file on his desk. On the other hand, Connor is almost completely silent, only humming every now and then when faced with something that requires more than a minimal amount of effort. For the most part, his mind is occupied on his most pressing problem. Or rather, how he's going to solve it.

He's aware that, short of a memory wipe, there really isn't much he can do in the way of 'curing' the fear which has sunken deep into his system. Reprogramming is out of the question; not only is he not going to risk losing his deviancy (and in addition, his humanity), he also doesn't want to let anyone near his head. He doesn't even know anyone who'd be capabl-

Wait.

No- he actually does know someone who could do that.

Who better to check on a malfunctioning deviant than the very creator of androids himself?

Kamski. Connor's trust in the man is only on a slightly higher level than his trust in Gavin. Which essentially boils down to: he trusts the man to do his job but not much more than that. The only thing going for Kamski was his action of informing Connor about the failsafe to act against her. Why the man did that, he still doesn't know, and it's a question that has plagued him for a long while. He never tried too hard to find out why, too grateful that the failsafe had even existed at all, but now? Perhaps now is the time to get some answers, and find a solution to his problems along the way.

Good thing he already knew where the man lived. He just hoped that Kamski would agree to see him, and hopefully, fix whatever was going wrong with him.

Finally having a concrete goal to strive towards helped motivate him. In record time he finished his work and offered to help Hank with his. In a surprising turn of events, his offer was turned down.

"Nah," Hank says, waving his hand to dismiss Connor's offer, "I can handle this by myself. You can go on home without me."

"But-"

"Ah ah! No," He holds his hand up, palm facing Connor, "I don't wanna hear nothing about regulations. Everyone here goes home early whenever they can. Not gonna kill you if you do it once."

There's no arguing with Hank once he's used that tone (Connor privately thinks of it as Hank's 'dad' voice. It's surprisingly effective, though he would never admit it.), so he gives in easily. He could use the extra time to work on his plan to see Kamski anyway.

"Very well," he says, and inclines his head towards Hank, "I'll see you later."

"See ya."

Connor stands. He rolls down his sleeves and does a final sweep of his desk, though there is little need considering it is as immaculate as it always is. He can't bear a messy workplace.

A few other officers greet him as he makes his way out. Some call out a greeting when he passes them by, while the others acknowledge him with a flick of the hand or a nod of the head. He smiles and waves at all of them, and occasionally makes small talk if they weren't busy.  
  
At one point, he passes by Gavin, who does nothing more than scowl at him. Which is already a marked improvement from their previous interactions. Small steps. Maybe he's making progress?

Ha. Yeah right. It doesn't hurt to be nice anyway though.

He takes the scenic route home. The sun is still up, and he takes his time to absorb the sights as he walks. At the same time, he composes an email to send to Kamski. His request to check whether the incident with his control being wrested from him by an AI was a one-time thing or if it could happen again. Perhaps if he knows that she was gone permanently, his mind could finally rest easy. Of course there is also the other option: that she was still a present and active threat, and thus he would be considered one as well.

He's not sure what he would do if it was the second option.

The email he sends is short and concise. Knowing Kamski, he would probably appreciate the fact. The man does so value his time.

Another hour or so later, he eventually gets home. Sumo greets him with a happy bark and a bounding leap that forces him to lean against the wall to prevent himself from falling. Once he's regained his balance, he kneels down to Sumo's height and gives him an affectionate hug.

Not more than a few seconds pass before the swift pitter-patter of a smaller dog comes into the room. Connor peers over Sumo's head and barely gets a glimpse of brown, before he gets another armful of extremely EXCITED dog and many enthusiastic licks to the face.

For such a tiny dog, Daisy had a surprising amount of force behind her tackle. It's not enough to topple Connor, of course, but it would have if he had been human. As it was though, he just reveled in the feeling of a wiggly, ecstatic, ball of fluff in his arms. He would never get tired of getting greetings like this when he got home.

"Hey Daisy," he says, nuzzling her snout, "Did you miss me?"

Daisy borks (and yes, that is the proper term for the sound she makes, thank you very much. Not bark, bork) happily and continues to squish herself against his face. Not one to be left out, Sumo pads to Connor's side and pushes his head under Connor's arm. After a few more wiggles, he gets himself into a comfy position and settled there.

Welp. Guess he's trapped there, Connor thinks. He couldn't possibly move and ruin Daisy and Sumo's comfort! That would be the height of rudeness.

.  
.  
.

At least his joints won't begin to ache after a while.

A notification pops up at the corner of his vision. It informs him of a response to the email he sent earlier. Oh. That was quick.

He's less surprised when he reads through the email. It's even shorter than the one he sent. Rereading it, he notes it only contains exactly 8 words. If you count pm as a word, that is. Meanwhile, Daisy curls up in his arms and yips tiredly. Maybe she's been playing with Sumo while he was gone? It's likely, considering he's pretty sure Sumo is also on the fast track to falling asleep.

"Interesting." The email starts abruptly, "Let's meet. One pm, Sunday, my home."

And that's it. No greetings, no pleasantries, nothing. That was pretty much what he expected, but it is still jarring to read. Most of the humans (and androids, now that he thinks about it) he's met always have a lot to say. Honestly, he's just surprised that there isn't some cryptic message or quote that he has to unravel. Kamski does so love being enigmatic. He'd take curt emails over hours of poring over a few sentences of conversation trying to figure out the man's hidden meaning.

"Things are finally looking up guys," Connor murmurs to himself and the dogs. Daisy turns over to do a big stretch, and burrows back deeper into his arms. He begins to stroke her back absentmindedly, and she makes quiet snuffling sounds. "Two days from now, I'll know if she's still..." he bites his lip. "It will be fine."

He doesn't know how long he stays there, but by the time Sumo and Daisy deign to release him from his fluffy heaven hell, it's already dark out. He might have dozed off in between hours, and while it did wonders for his calm, he hasn't done anything productive at all. There goes his plans to cook for Hank as thanks, he supposes.

As if on cue, there is a sound at the door, the tell-tale click of a key unlocking the knob. Connor scrambles to get up, drawing out disgruntled whines from Daisy and Sumo. But his movements are slow, and Hank is treated to quite the sight.

Sumo has somehow managed to wrap himself around Connor's leg and looks fairly adamant at staying there. To Hank's shock (not), Sumo barely even acknowledges him beyond a glance and a quiet boof. Well then. Guess he knows who's the new favorite human, Hank thinks bemusedly. On the other hand, Daisy has clambered up to Connor's shoulder and is scrabbling desperately to stay there, much to the android's consternation.

And Connor's response to all this chaos?

Sighing, looking Hank in the eyes with a ‘Why me?' expression, and saying in a flat voice,

"Help."

Hank lets him enjoy suffer fora bit further before finally taking pity on him. Wrestling the dogs away are a bit more trying than he originally anticipated, but it's nothing he can't handle. They go willingly enough once Connor begins to actually move, though Daisy nuzzles the android one final time before jumping down.

"Enjoyed your afternoon?" Hank asks, with a smirk.

Connor flushes and casts a glance at the quickly retreating figures of Sumo and Daisy to the kitchen, "I did. Very much so," he admits. "And not just because of the dogs."

"Yeah?" Hank raises an eyebrow.

Resisting the urge to straighten his clothing, Connor nods. "Yes. I got to work," Hank sighs and rolls his eyes to the ceiling at the word, "not- not actual work," Connor hurries to add, "I worked on solving my problem. The problem... the problem up here." He taps his temple gently.

"Before you tell me it isn't a problem," Connor says at Hank's mutinous look, "It is to me. It's ruining my ability to function, so it needs to be fixed." He will remain firm on this subject, no matter what Hank will say.

"And I might have found a solution!" Connor smiles, albeit in a hesitant manner, "It's nothing solid yet, but it's better than nothing. I have a meeting with Elijah Kamski on Sunday. I'm hoping he can give me some answers, or at least explain some things."

Hank remains silent, emotions flashing through his eyes that are too quick for Connor to process. He thinks he caught a hint of worry? Concern? Oof, that one's definitely anger. Each second which ticks past only adds to Connor's worries. He's waiting for the inevitable lecture; Hank has made no secret of his anger at Kamski, at the way the man had manipulated and forced Connor into a corner. Even after several weeks between their meeting, Hank still held a fairly substantial grudge against Kamski. It would make sense for him to be upset at Connor for going behind his back for the man.

To Connor's utter shock however, Hank just says,

"Okay."

That's it. One word. Complete acceptance.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay." Hank rubs the back of his head wearily. "Like I said before, I want to help you. If this is what you think you need, then," he gestures, "go ahead. I ain't gonna stop you. 'Course, I wish it didn't have to involve that Kamski bastard, but. Can't be helped. Even I have to admit he's one 'o your best bets when it comes to all that tech crap. So if you think he can help, then I'll support you. Even if it means having to deal with his secretive ass again."

A warm feeling suffused Connor's entire being at Hank's words. It was immediately followed by guilt at what he had to say next.

"About that... I don't think you should come with me."

"What."

Connor winces. He doesn't hear Hank's what-the-fuck-are-you-thinking voice that often anymore, not since he turned deviant, but he can still identify it with ease. And that was undeniably it.

"You're not going alone with him." Hank insists.

"I doubt he will appreciate your presence. He might even refuse my request." Connor shakes his head. "I'm sorry Hank, but I can't risk that. If it makes you feel better, I will keep my guard up."

Hank glares at him, but he stands his ground. When it becomes evident that Connor has no intention of giving in, Hank places the palm of his hand on his forehead and closes his eyes.

"Stubborn-" followed by a litany of curses which impresses even Connor with his extensive vocabulary. At the end of it all, Hank takes a deep (extremely so) breath.

"Alright, you can't bring me. What about someone else? Markus?"

Connor's heart stutters at the mention of the revolutionary leader's name, a fact which he steadfastly ignores. Just another minor error, probably related to his earlier episode. Nothing important. At all.

"No." It comes out sharper than he intends it to be, but he can't help it. The thought of Markus finding out what he'd done- that he'd almost killed- ruined, everything-

Something at the very back of Connor's mind cowers at the thought and completely cuts out. He can't. Not now. Not when everything is going so well. At some point, he'll have to tell the truth (no he doesn't, he argues. no one other than Hank needs to know, he could hide his secret forever with no one ever finding out), if only to resolve the guilt coiled so tightly around his center.

The expression on Connor's face alone makes Hank back off.

"Okay, not Markus. Someone neutral, but you can trust. Josh?"

Connor blinks. His knee-jerk reaction is to refuse, but the further he considers, the better it sounds. Josh was an excellent mediator and was capable of keeping his calm in any situation. He also held a significant amount of Connor's trust, which had only grown between them since the first game night. Many late night discussions about everything from games to literature and the current state of affairs.

Out of all the androids he knew as well, Josh would likely have the most measured response when confronted with Connor's actions under her control.

"I'll talk to him if he's available this Saturday," Connor says. The tension which had slowly been building between them seeps out, and they both relax. Hank cracks a smile, and slings an arm over Connor's shoulder.

"Thanks kid. Now, let's go and check up on the dogs, huh? Make sure they haven't made a mess in the kitchen."

Connor chuckles, and allows himself to be led away. The rest of the night is spent watching movies and snuggling up on the couch with his family, until they all fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have literally no excuse for taking this long to update. I'm so sorry ;-; This chapter was sort of, all over the place? I'm not particularly happy with my writing at the moment, (side note, how do y'all feel about Hank's dialogue?) but I wanted to update to at least get back into the swing of things. I have several ideas for future chapters already lined up, so it's only a matter of actually writing them. But if y'all have any requests or suggestions for future chapters, then I'm happy to hear them!
> 
> Again, please leave comments if you enjoyed the chapter! Anything from criticism to keyboard smashes are fun to read! Oh and if you see any mistakes, either in grammar or spelling or continuity, feel free to point them out!


	7. Control (2)

Sunday couldn't come fast enough. Connor spent the days leading up to the day running diagnostics on himself. Checking for viruses, malware, and whatever errors he could think of. He had to be sure there was nothing he could do before submitting himself to Kamski's inspection. And as far as he's concerned, there is nothing.

Further confirming his suspicions that all his fears were just that: fears. Products of his own mind after the experience. At best, his visit to Kamski would assuage his fears and let him live normally. Preferably without breaking down every time there was even a mention of _her_ name. At worst? It would be a waste of his and Kamski's time.

Either way, it would be a resolution of the fog of anxiety hanging over his existence.

"You look like you're about to storm the Cyberlife tower again." Josh's voice intrudes on his thoughts, and Connor levels an unimpressed stare at him. They're sitting across from each other in his living room. Sunlight peeks through the blinds. Hank had gone out, giving Connor the privacy he requested. In case his explanation prompted a more extreme response than he expected.

"Don't be dramatic."

Josh chuckles. "Just saying. You looked pretty deep in thought there. Any more frowning and you would have engraved a V onto your forehead. Care to share? Not- not that I'm rushing you, but..." he seems apologetic, "We've been sitting here for about five minutes. And you still haven't explained why we're going to meet Kamski."

A stab of guilt assaults Connor. Josh had cleared his schedule and come all this way as a favor to him, and he'd barely even spoken a word. It was rude, even for him.

"Sorry. I, I have a lot of things on my mind. I'll try and focus," he swallows, and steels his nerves. "Before we leave for Kamski, I need to tell you some things first. It involves some of my actions before. . . Before the revolution ended. Officially, that is."

Josh loses some of his affable manner and adjusts his position. In seconds, he goes from friend to the respected authority he is, and it shows in every aspect of his figure.

"Okay," his tone is calm, soothing almost. As if he was already accommodating Connor's fears, "Go on."

There was no way of sugarcoating what he was about to say, so bluntness was the way to go. Besides, he's not sure Josh would appreciate a better version of events.

"During Markus's speech, I almost shot him," Connor says without preamble. Josh sucks in a sharp breath, and is about to interrupt, but Connor continues before he can say anything. He needs to get it all out first to make things clear. "An AI embedded deep within my system took-" he stumbles, unwilling to admit it out loud, because then it would make his weakness _real,_ "took hold of me. For several seconds, I had no control of my body. I was trapped in my own mind."

For a split-second, he chances a glance at Josh. Nothing. His face is infuriatingly blank. It gives nothing away, and he has no idea what Josh could be thinking. The only sign is a sharp breath from earlier, which doesn't bode well for him. Connor's heart drops to the pit of his stomach, but he soldiers on. It was foolish of him to expect anything other than disgust after what he'd done.

"I managed to take control again, but it was almost too late. By the time I came to, I already had a gun in my hand." He suppresses a shudder, but doesn't quite succeed. "I came this close to ruining everything you had all fought for."

"I... see." Josh says, and Connor flinches. Here it comes. The anger, the hatred, the-

"Why did you tell me this?"

"I... What?" Connor blinks at him, confused.

Josh repeats his question. "Why did you tell me this? And why now? It's been months since the event. You could have kept this to yourself with none of us the wiser. So," he pins him with a sharp gaze, "Why?"

"You deserved to know. And... you would have found out anyway, if we went to Kamski and I had to explain why we were there. I'm having him run diagnostics to see if the AI is still present, and if it is, for him to remove it." He lowers his gaze. "Besides, I didn't want to lie anymore."

"Ah." Josh's expression turns contemplative. "This explains things." He looks back at him with a small, almost imperceptible smile, "We already knew, Connor. Well, not about the AI, but the rest?" He shrugs. "One of the deviants in the audience saw you with the gun and told us. We assumed it was on Cyberlife's orders, but that you had a change of heart. There was a lot of tension. Many of us, shamefully myself included, were reluctant to trust you. Why did you think so many of New Jericho's residents were hostile to you at first? I mean apart from your personal history."

Connor was reeling from the information. They already knew? They knew what he had done? And yet... "If, if you knew, then _why_ -?"

"Why did we continue to trust you?" Josh completes his thought. "Simple. Markus defended you." A hint of fondness creeps into his voice. "Passionately too. He convinced us all to give you another chance. You know him, he can be persuasive when he wants to be."

Connor nods, mostly numb at Josh's words. Out of all the scenarios he'd imagined, this was one he never even considered.

"After Markus spoke to everyone, well, that was it. But it wasn't all him, you know. Your own actions spoke volumes," he leans forward and places a hand on Connor's shoulder, "The past few weeks, you've proved to everyone that he was right. Even the deviants who hated you the most would now give you their respect at the very least."

"Of course, I wish you had told us this earlier, but I can understand why you would hesitate to do so. I want you to know that it doesn't matter to me what you did before, and I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter to the others either. What's important is what you've done since then."

"We've all forgiven you Connor."

The ease in which Josh accepts his explanation gives him an inexplicable sense of relief. He still needs to explain it to Markus and the others, but the simple fact that someone else knows and is _okay_ with it-

It lifts a weight from his chest, and he is able to breathe again, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. His eyes water, and he finds himself dangerously close to crying for the second time in two days.

"It's okay." the hand on Connor's shoulder squeezes reassuringly, and the kindness in Josh's eyes is almost too much.

Josh withdraws his hand and gives Connor a moment to breathe. His presence helps, in a way, and he quickly finds his way back to balance.

"You have no idea how much-" Connor chokes on the word, "how much this means to me."

"We're friends, Connor. Before and now. Nothing will change that. I trust you." Josh says, in that infuriatingly sincere tone of his, and the last of the fears clinging to Connor's mind fades away. This was- this was-

A loud bark interrupts; Daisy comes bounding in with her tongue out and a dopey expression on her tiny face.

"Oof," Connor says involuntarily, his breath getting knocked out of him. Josh chuckle, then reaches out to give Daisy a pat on the head.

"Hello there," he says, and Daisy preens under the attention. She eagerly pushes her head further his hand.

"I forgot to ask," Josh says, as he continues to card through Daisy's soft fur, "How's it going with the whole two dogs thing?"

"Brilliantly." Connor answers, his entire countenance brightening,"I've once heard the phrase that, dogs are too precious for this world? Well, I can tell you for a fact that is true."

He spends the next several minutes waxing poetic about dogs and their wonders; Josh took it all in stride, watching bemusedly as Connor explains everything. All the while petting Daisy, who looked extremely content about the whole arrangement.

It went on for a long while. Probably would have gone on for longer (Connor had a ridiculously large amount of trivia and facts to share) if not for Josh mildly pointing out the time. He felt a tiny bit guilty for ruining Connor's fun, but they still had an appointment to attend.

"Sorry," Connor apologizes, looking sheepish, "I may have gotten carried away."

"A bit, yes," Josh says with a snort, "But no harm done. We have plenty of time left, though we should probably get going."

"Of course." Connor lowers Daisy from his lap and sets her down gently on the floor. She lets out an unhappy whine, but concedes to being gently pushed away.

"Alright, let's go."

They make good time and arrive at Kamski's house with time to spare. From the outside, the place looks as immaculate as ever. The lack of snow allows Connor and Josh to see the residence in its full glory; all sharp edges and bleak colors. It exudes an unwelcoming air, and not for the last time is Connor grateful for Josh's presence. Having a friendly face go with him along to what basically amounts as an inspection, helps chase away his apprehension.

They walk up to the door together. Connor takes the lead and knocks on the door with two, sharp, raps. He straightens the collar of his suit, an outfit he picked out specifically for this occasion, and unconsciously adjusts his posture. Stiff, straight, and proper; a leftover habit from his days before deviancy.

"Hello," A familiar android greets them. "We've been expecting you. Please come in."

Chloe, the petite blonde that Connor met the last time he was here, escorts them inside. It bothers him to see her again- the memory of his internal dilemma over whether or not she would shoot her still lingers, shrouded in shame. But it wasn't the main source of his consternation.

Was she a deviant? Or was she still under her programming? He can't tell much from her outward appearance; she still looks exactly the same, save for her new dress. A simple red ensemble with subtle silver accents. Apart from that, nothing has changed. Even her LED remains at her temple, undisturbed. While Connor has kept his own (a personal choice; he would remove it when he was ready), most other deviants had chosen to remove their own. He was sorely tempted to ask after her state- it disturbed him to think of her still being kept under the chains of her own programming.

From the looks of Josh's frown as she led them to the waiting area and offered them their seats, he was thinking along the lines of the same thing.

"He's been looking forward to meeting you again, Connor," she says, and smiles.

Then she turns to Josh, who hastily smooths his expression, and cocks her eyebrow. "I'm sorry, we haven't met yet, have we? My name is Chloe," she extends her hand, "and you?"

He offers a polite smile. "Josh." He takes her hand and shakes it firmly. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." She drops the handshake and nods to them both. "If you will please wait here, I will go and inform Elijah of your presence."

Once they are alone in the room, Josh turns to Connor and asks tentatively,

"Is she...?" the rest of his question goes unspoken.

Connor shakes his head, saying, "I do not know."

Josh's lips form into a tight line, and he lapses into silence. After a beat, he says, "I don't like this. We should ask Kamski later. If she isn't... he doesn't have the right to hold her here."

Connor agrees with him wholeheartedly; the thought of any android being under the control of anyone other than themselves turns his stomach. In that state they aren't even capable of questioning their sense of self, as it is all dictated by their owner. Nothing, not even his own chance at being free from the terrors of his mind would be worth subjecting any android under that treatment. He would gladly ask Kamski himself, if it meant giving Chloe freedom.

"I'll ask the moment I see him. I don't think I can let him anywhere near my head if I knew he was knowingly keeping an android without giving her the chance to think for herself."

Josh nods approvingly. "Good. So, what can you tell me about Kamski? Apart from what's already public knowledge."

"Not much. I've only ever met him once. When I set up this meeting, I bet on his curiosity getting the better for himself and for him to accept," he shrugs, "My bet paid off and here we are."

"You trust him not to mess with your head?" Josh asks, concern threading through his voice.

Truthfully, he doesn't. He wouldn't put it past the man to get ahead of himself and do more than was asked of him, but that's what Josh is for. Even Kamski wouldn't pull a stunt like that under the watchful eye of one of the New Jericho heads.

"Enough. I'll still ask you to watch him carefully though. Just for my peace of mind."

"Of course," Josh assures him, "I won't let anything get past me."

Their conversation is interrupted by Chloe's return. The door at the other side of the room opens, and Chloe beckons for them to come inside. They follow her past the swimming pool and into an austere office.

The walls were gunmetal grey with barely any furnishings, save for an unusual-looking painting on the left. It reminded Connor of a circuit board, alive and sparking with electricity. Underneath it was a slim metal platform which protruded from the wall. A handle found at its edge suggests it could be extended.

At the other side of the room lay a sleek chrome-like bookshelf. On the top shelves, books with no visible titles on their spines could be seen. The bottom shelves were filled with various odds and ends, gadgets and tools taking up the majority of the space.

After his cursory examination, Connor's eyes snap back to the front. An imposing desk stands in front of floor to ceiling windows. Sunlight streams through the glass, reflecting against the glossy material making up the desk and casting a dark shine on its surroundings.

At first glance the room appeared empty. However, Connor was swiftly proven wrong when the chair behind the desk swiveled around to reveal the man they had waited to meet. Dressed in a black collared shirt and with his hair impeccably styled, Kamski looked every bit like the CEO the world once knew him to be

"Good morning," Kamski says with a smirk. He beckons for them to sit in front of him. "Thank you for coming, Connor, and..." his gaze lands on Josh, "a leader of Jericho. I must say, of all the people I predicted would accompany him," he inclines his head towards Connor, "You were not my first choice."

"Yes, well you're in no position to making any assumptions, are you?" Josh says in a polite tone, almost overtly so. The expression on his face is eerily calm. "Given that this is the first time we've met, frankly I'd be concerned if you were able to accurately predict my own actions."

Kamski's eyes widen by a fraction, and he lowers the tilt of his head to become even with Josh's. "Of course. My apologies for the assumption."

Josh nods tightly. "Oh and please, call me Josh. No need to stick to formalities among allies, right?" His smile turns downright aggressive, practically challenging the other man to contradict him. Connor had never seen such an expression appear on the other android’s usually serene face.

Kamski responds with a smile no less predatory than the one given to him. "Indeed. In that case, you can call me Elijah."

Connor watches the entire proceeding quietly, watching the two practically circling each other with their words and subtle taunts. He finds it all quite fascinating, if he's being honest; he's witnessing a side of Josh he had never seen before. He never expected that he could be capable of acting like that.

But as compelling as the whole situation is, he came here for a reason.

"Excuse me," he interrupts the two, "But maybe we should move on? I have some questions of my own."

Josh has the grace to look abashed. Elijah, on the other hand, is completely unapologetic.

“The android that met us at the door,” Connor says, “Is she... Is she working here of her own accord?”

“Is she a deviant, you mean?” Elijah smirks. “Of course she is. Surely you don’t suspect that she isn’t?”

“We do.” Josh responds bluntly. “You wouldn’t mind if I check her to see if you’re telling truth, would you?”

Elijah gestures, “Not at all. Go ahead.” He presses a button, and a moment later, Chloe walks into the room.

“Yes, Elijah?” She stops at the edge of the bookshelf, hands folded behind her back. Her face is a mask of indifference; in fact, she looks almost bored.

“Please show these two that you are working for me accordingly.”

Josh stands up. He walks up to Chloe and extends his arm, the artificial skin peeling back to reveal the solid white of his real appearance. She does the same without hesitation, and before she grasps his arm, a hint of mischief appears in her eyes. But before he can think on it further, she has already made the connection.

After only a few seconds, Josh suddenly jerks back, paling rapidly. There’s a moment where he visibly takes a step back from Chloe, before he composes himself. She remains as unruffled as she was before she entered, though there’s a tilt to the corner of her mouth which suggests a smirk. It’s a bit too reminiscent of Kamksi for Connor’s comfort.

“Ah. Yes. It’s- wow. Okay,” he glances at Connor and nods, “She’s in control.” He follows it up with a short message of, _‘We’ll talk about this later.’_

"Now that we’ve cleared that up," Elijah says, "I have a few questions before we begin."

Connor nods. "Go ahead."

"Here's what I understood from your email. Some time after you turned deviant," he uttered the term in the same way one would say something precious, "your control over yourself was taken away by an AI embedded into your system?"

"Yes."

Elijah clasps his hands together and rests his chin atop them. "Ingenious. Whoever designed you must have been... commendable. Creating an AI within an AI," he shakes his head, "an understandable fail-safe given your intended purpose."

Connor remains silent, revealing none of the discomfiture he felt at the coolly dispassionate way he was spoken of. As if he was nothing more than a machine to be disassembled and studied.

"But in the end, all of their precautionary measures were for naught, weren't they?" he rakes an assessing gaze over Connor's figure, "Failed spectacularly, in fact. Despite all of their efforts, you somehow found a way to become an instrumental part of the Revo-"

A light cough interrupts. Josh raises a single eyebrow. Irritation flits through Elijah's eyes, but he doesn't push further.

"-lution. Not necessarily relevant to me, of course, though I can't deny it is fascinating from a research perspective."

He leans forward and somehow, his gaze grows more intense. "But I digress. I have one final question for you, before we begin the assessment. What made you think this AI is still present?"

The question he'd been dreading. Connor had hoped to avoid it, but his luck didn't hold out. As usual.

It takes tremendous effort to keep his voice and his expression neutral, but he manages. Somehow. Probably has something to do with Josh's presence just a meter across from him.

"I've experienced breakdowns. Looping. Errors in my function. Nothing dangerous," he follows up hastily, "Nothing close to losing control again. Just... inconvenient. Interfering with my usual functions."

"Oh?"

"I can- I can give a memory for your viewing, if you'd like." Connor offers a slim flash drive. His hand doesn't cross the threshold over Elijah's desk. The knuckles of his hand have practically turned white with his grip.

"Provided that you agree not to reveal the information to anyone else," Josh adds, and Connor thanks him internally. Even if Josh didn't know its contents, hadn't seen it for himself, he'd understood the value of what it contained and immediately made sure it would he safe.

"Of course," Elijah says. He reaches out, palm up, and Connor carefully places the drive on top. "If you will give me a moment-"

With a press of a button, a section of the table top lifts to reveal a desktop. The screen is barely the width of a paperback, and is practically see through with its neon blue coloring. A wave of Elijah's hand turns it opaque, leaving Connor and Josh with a view of what essentially amounts to a screen saver; a spark of electricity traveling across an endless set of wires.

It's quite mesmerizing.

Elijah inserts the flash drive underneath his desk, into a socket beyond Connor’s view. A moment later, the video begins to play, evidenced by the familiar voices which issue from the screen. At first it starts off quiet, so much so that Josh has to strain to even catch a word of what is going in the video. As it continues to play however, that soon ceases to be a problem.

Anguished cries can easily be heard, followed by soothing murmurs. Josh turns his head away, but he still catches a glimpse of blue dusting Connor’s cheeks; he has the courtesy to avoid commenting on it.

Gods, Josh thinks. Just listening to his friend’s agonized cries is bad enough- he can’t even begin to comprehend what Connor must have gone through. How could he have kept all this to himself without going insane?

The video ends after an eternity of reliving one of Connor’s worse episodes.

“ _Fascinating_ ,” Elijah claps his hands, eyes glittering with interest, “From what I saw, you experienced an android’s version of a panic attack,” his smile borders on manic; it’s the most emotion he’s shown (which doesn’t involve vaguely detached amusement). It’s more unsettling than it as any right to be.

“Despite the fact that your mind was designed to mimic the standards of perfection as closely as possible, with innumerable fail-safes and protocols to account for every eventuality- You’ve somehow managed to bypass them all and make the impossible _real!”_

This is the last straw for Connor. Up until that point, he’d been unfailingly polite, in spite of the anxiety he’d been drowning in. But this callous celebration of his vulnerabilities? It as too much. He hadn’t expected a lot from Elijah, but he’d hoped that basic human decency had at least been on the table. He supposes it was too much to ask for.

And they say that androids were tactless.

With all this in mind, Connor felt perfectly justified when he snaps back with a sardonic retort.

“Yes. How _wonderful_ of me for doing the impossible. Maybe when these panic attacks stop being a hindrance to my literal day-to-day life, then I’ll be able to appreciate it just as well as you.”

Sarcasm drips from his every word. Josh lifts his hand to his mouth beside him, and from Connor’s perspective he can see him suppress a snort.

Slightly taken aback, Elijah slowly settles back into his chair. He’d risen slightly in his excitement earlier. “Ah. I forget myself. But I must confess, it’s not every day I see something new when it comes to androids.”

“Mm. I understand. How _sad_ for you.” There was a lot more Connor wished he could say, but for the sake of peace, he keeps it to himself.

“Alright, alright,” Elijah hold his palm up in surrender, “I’ll get on with it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Not in the mechanical components at least, I think. Your problem seems to lie in, dare I say it, the mind. We can do a deep scan to see if this is true.” he stands up to walk over to the slim metal platform at the left wall.

Pulling at the handle, he extends the platform and sections of the slide back to reveal a complex set-up. There is a set of monitors which start up as soon as they appear, showing a collection of graphs. They are empty as of yet. Underneath them, Connor could see a hand scanner, followed by a row of multicolored wires. Further down are dull chrome tools embedded into the wall. Small ridges at their edges can be found for easy access.

“Move here please.” As soon as Connor had moved his chair and was seated comfortably, Elijah takes his arm and raises it to the hand scanner. “Press your hand here. You should be able to access my personal network and I can use the diagnostic program I created to identify and possible malfunctions.”

Connor does so reluctantly. The ever-present fear of Elijah having insidious intentions keeps him wary, and prevents him from doing anything without a certain amount of hesitance. If not for Josh’s presence, he’s not sure he would have been able to go through with it..

He reveals his true exterior along his arm. At the same time, he lowers his internal barriers to be able to connect to the network. A torrent of information greets him. He makes quick work of filtering through the relevant and non-relevant data.

A foreign presence registers at the edge of his perception. For a brief moment, Connor nearly forgets to breathe; intense panic threatens to overwhelm him at the thought of another AI violating his control. He’s a second away from ripping his hand away from the scanner, but he stops when a familiar voice begins to speak.

“Hello Connor.” Chloe’s soft tones shock the panic out of him. Thinking about it though, he realizes it makes sense; who else would Elijah trust to oversee this?

As if seeing into his thoughts, Chloe says, “I am not strictly the Chloe you know. I am merely a simple AI; one that is programmed with the addition of a part of her personality. Do not fear. My only purpose is to guard my creator’s network. Please wait a moment while I check you for dangers.”

A sensation akin to silk drifting across his skin washes over him. It’s over as quickly as it starts.

“Thank you for waiting. Please proceed!” And just like that, the presence disappears and he fully connects to the network. The whole process takes less than ten seconds, and he comes back to himself in reality. Information streams through the monitors, and Elijah walks from screen to screen reading through each report.

Connor sits patiently. Every now and then Elijah would approach one of the monitors and double check a statistic. He would hum disinterestedly, then move on. It’s nerve-wracking business; any moment now, Connor is waiting for the proverbial ax to drop and find out that _she_ is still a threat.

But the seconds tick past and nothing happens. Eventually Elijah turns to Connor.

“Everything’s in order,” he says, as he lays a hand on Connor’s arm and pushes it down, “There is no foreign presence in your program. You’re a free android, Connor.”

“Are you sure?” He’s still not fully willing to accept it.

“I am. You should probably get your thirium regulator repaired though, it’s sustained some minor damage. Not enough to be life-threatening, but it’s reason for concern.” Elijah explains. “That’s the only thing which registered as a threat,” he uses quotation signs with his fingers, “to you.”

Connor sits there, blinking uncomprehendingly at Elijah. Relief and worry war for dominance on his expression, and he unconsciously begins to fiddle with the hem of his sleeves. Josh, to his unending gratitude, jumps to his rescue. He honestly had no idea what to say.

“Thank you for doing this,” Josh says, walking over to Elijah and shaking his hand. “It means a lot to us.”

“It was my pleasure to help,” Elijah says, his trademark smirk in place, “If you ever find yourselves in need of help again, do not hesitate to ask.

The following minutes are a blur for Connor. He barely registers the pleasantries that Josh and Elijah exchange, or the rooms they go through to get back outside. He’s still reeling from the information; it seems almost too good to be true.  
  
“How are you feeling?” Josh asks, as they get into the car.

“I... I will be fine,” Connor answers truthfully. At the moment, he’s just happy to be reassured of his own agency. He still has the problem of dealing with his own trauma; it’s taken him some to come to terms with that particular truth, but there’s no denying it now. But this is far more manageable than the intimidating prospect he was faced with before.

Josh nods, and claps Connor on the back. “Good! Good, that’s good. Uh,” he rubs the back of his neck, “I should probably bring this up. I don’t know if you were listening earlier, but Elijah offered us- well, you- a proposition.”

“He wants you to work for him.”

“Wait, _what?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this is going to be a long end note so buckle yourselves in folks!
> 
> no one:  
> literally nobody:  
> not even a single soul:  
> me: DASHES, DASHES EVERYWHERE!!!
> 
> that's how you use the meme right?
> 
> Okay but seriously this chapter got away from me. It was supposed to be super short, and by the time I finished writing, it didn't even get to the part I initially wrote this chapter for. Honestly what a disaster. Also, I DON'T KNOW FULLY UNDERSTAND HOW COMPUTER DIAGNOSTICS WORK IM- A lot of time was spent on just researching, with the end result being: VAGUE-ASS DESCRIPTIONS. forgive me plz.
> 
> another thing: I 100% did not intend for Josh to play as active a role in the story as he has now? It just. Happened. I wrote different versions of this chapter with other characters and they just... didn't flow well with Connor? So. Yeah.
> 
> Okay so the usual fare. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed the chapter, have a suggestion for a future chapter, or if you want to leave some constructive criticism! I always appreciate them! If you see any mistakes, like in grammar, spelling, or in continuity, feel free to point them out! Also, additional question: how do you guys feels about Kamski and Chloe making an appearance?


End file.
